


Ascent into Madness

by cesium_sheep



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Autistic Dave Strider, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, My First AO3 Post, Neurodiversity, Serial Killers, timeine of convenience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 26,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesium_sheep/pseuds/cesium_sheep
Summary: Dave and Rose are an unstoppable pair of detectives. Rose is an expert puzzle-solver, especially when the puzzles are people, and Dave's neurotype helps him be an exceptional interrogator. But when they hit a run of dead-end cases, is Rose just losing her grip when she insists there's a superhuman killer on the loose? Updates every other week (roughly). Tags subject to change.





	1. Glass: Break (Prologue)

You roll across your bed to the floor opposite the window before you've even processed the noise. Not that you've really been shot at all that much in your life, you just watch too many shitty action movies with John and his cousin. Besides, the hole in the window is way too big for that.

“Good morning, Dave.”

There's some kind of cheap walkie-talkie or radio or whatever tied to a brick among the scattered glass. You crawl carefully across the floor to retrieve it.

“What the fuck, Lalonde? This is pretty low class for you, I gotta say. Brick through a window? Really? I expect better from you. Maybe like some kind of classy dinner invitation. Printed on nice personalized stationary and everything. Set on my table to unnerve me about someone being in my apartment. But a brick?”

“I want to speak with you, Dave.”

“Well yes, obviously.” You roll lazily back to your bedside table to retrieve your sunglasses. The broken glass reflects the morning sun directly into your eyes and you're not a fan of it. “Are you in one of your fuckin delusions or whatever? I feel like I'm not supposed to play along with those.”

“Handling delusions in others is a complex and variable process but that is irrelevant because I am not delusional.” She's starting to sound frustrated now. How uncool. “The only evidence anyone has offered to the contrary are out-of-hand dismissals and aspersions on my competency and sanity.”

“Look, I am totally on board with classing Lord English as a monster, but that's not literal. He doesn't have any crazy superpowers or whatever, and neither do we. He's just a really, really shitty person, and it's going to take normal, human hard work to stop him. You realize how crazy you sound, right?” You sigh. Sometimes you miss your sister. Or at least, who she was before all... this. “Are you still in the hospital?”

She's quiet for a moment. “... Yes. I called in a favor. We're running out of time, Dave. Surely you've realized that much.”

You sigh again. This is all way outside your area of expertise. “I'll come see you tomorrow. Bring you another one of your shitty wizard novels or something.”

“I would like that.”

You stare at the silent radio for a long moment. You guess you can't really leave without saying goodbye. “Uh, I've gotta go.”

“I know, Dave. I apologize for the mess.”

“It's whatever.”

“Keep the radio. We may need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm new here, if I've tagged something wrong please let me know and I'd be happy to correct it! I'm really fond of the autistic Dave headcanon and recently diagnosed myself, so his neurotype in this is somewhat based off mine. If anyone feels there's a problem with my portrayal, again please let me know! I may end up disagreeing with you, but I'd like to at least talk about it.


	2. Dave: Think back

You and Rose had always been close, even before your parents had married. At least, that's how you remembered things. You certainly stayed close after they split again, anyway. So when she took an interest in law enforcement and you didn't have anything better to do, you got sucked in too.

Everyone knew Rose was sharp, an expert puzzle-solver. It came as a surprise when it turned out your neurotype, the very thing that made you unpleasant and unemployable according to the world around you, also made you a spectacular interrogator. You could question a subject for hours, keeping track of every detail and slip-up, wearing whatever mask you needed to wear to get as much information as possible. The two of you made a formidable team.

“Another domestic homicide?” You raise an eyebrow. There's been an unusual spike lately. “What, did our team lose a sports game or something?”

Rose rolls her eyes at you. “That's what we're trying to figure out. The boyfriend is waiting for you now. Number 6.”

You stand from your secluded desk, shoving your hands in your pockets. Time to get to work. You probably didn't mumble that out loud.

\---

The guy seems stoic, easy to mistake for unemotional, but definitely not the same to your eyes. His face looks kind of splotchy and swollen, and he's just staring at a fixed point on the wall, spine straight. Doesn't fit with relaxed or with afraid.

“It's Kevin, right?”

He'd glanced at you when you opened the door, but this is the first time he's actually looked at you. He swallows.

“Yeah.”

Yeah, he'd definitely been crying. Probably a lot. His voice is still thick with it.

“Well, Kevin, I'm Detective Strider. You can call me Dave. I'm here to help figure out what happened to your significant other.”

Kevin's face does a weird twitch at that. You're not sure what to file it as. Pain perhaps? “Okay. Dave.” He looks down at the table. “What do you need to know?”

You decide it would be best to take off your sunglasses. The harsh lights of the room hurts your eyes, but it tends to set others at ease. And you'll get more information out of this guy if he feels like he can trust you. “Can you tell me what happened yesterday morning? Just whatever you remember is fine.”

“Oh.” He swallows again. “Well, I'd stayed at Sam's over the weekend. I'd been out of town for work all week, so y'know.” He shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “Sam wanted to sleep in, but I had to stop by my sister's house. We had dinner reservations last night.” He's quiet now. He doesn't seem to want to tell you any more.

“But those plans fell through, huh,” you prompt gently. His entire face crumples like a shitty drawing.

You let someone else take over after that.

\---

It's obvious to anyone with a brain that Kevin didn't kill his significant other, not that he really had any information to offer. Some boring asshole might try to argue that he was just feeling regret, but there's nothing at all to implicate him. Or anyone, for that matter.

“What the fuck, dude?” You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms behind your head. “No one can just drop dead out of the blue like that, not that violently.”

“Of course not.” Rose is biting her lip. The case file is fanned out between the two of you.

“No one seems to know anything so I'm out. Do you have anything?”

You tap your feet on your desk rhythmically as she frowns down at the paper. She doesn't comment on you mumbling to yourself under your breath. She may not even hear you over the gears turning in her head. Without a word, she launches herself off the corner of your desk towards the filing cabinet.

“Woah, woah, hang on there! What are you doing? Did you get an idea?” You lean forward, ready to listen.

“This isn't the only dead-end case we've had recently.” She's rifling through your files now. “It sounds like a bit of a stretch, but just maybe...” She's pulled a whole fistful of files out now, brandishing them at you.

“Maybe?”

“This is more exciting than I thought.” She's skimming file pages now. You wait impatiently for her to clue you in.

“Come on, Lalonde, spit it out!”

“Here.” She throws a file onto the desk. You remember that one, it felt like you'd talked to every person the poor kid had ever met by the time you had to let it go. Another case with no plausible suspects. “And this one. And this one.” She's stacking them now.

“Are you saying what I think you're saying? Because you know you've gotta be careful with that shit around here.”

“I am.” She brandishes the last file at you almost manically. “I think there's a serial killer on the loose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this one finished before I posted the prologue last night. The original idea was to try to post weekly but this one was also short plus I'm excited. Theoretically-weekly updates after this though. Probably. Assuming I don't get over-excited or busy or whatever. It looks like the chapters are going to get longer from here.


	3. Boss: Hold meeting

“Don't be ridiculous.”

Rose is furious. She spent her entire weekend pulling out all the evidence, writing page after page of what you knew so far, and what was so obviously missing, and why it all fit together. You inch away, just a little.

“We haven't had a serial killer in over a decade, why would one show up now?”

“All due respect sir, I can't answer that without further investigation.” Her voice is cold. Why did you even get dragged along to this stupid meeting?

“Detective Lalonde. Normally I'd encourage your out-of-the-box thinking, god knows it's gotten us out of tight spots before. But this is absurd. There's simply no evidence that these victims were all murdered by the same person.”

“Then who killed them? Need I remind you, sir, that there have been no suspects in any of these cases beyond what we could reasonably guess, with no evidence, no witnesses, no indication of ill will towards the victim, nothing at all? I'd be more than happy to entertain a more reasonable explanation. Assuming anyone actually has one to offer.” She's drawn herself up to her full height, which shouldn't be intimidating but is. Maybe it's only intimidating to you because you sort of grew up with her. You start to fidget with the inside of your sleeve.

“I understand that you're frustrated. Everyone ends up with a string of bad cases from time to time. That's no reason to go jumping to such alarming conclusions. Back to work, now. Both of you.”

Rose puts on her sweetest smile.

“Of course, sir.”

\---

“You're not going to drop it at all, are you.” She's sweeping down the hallway ahead of you like she's royalty, and anyone in her way is going to move or be moved. You're not even sure why you bothered to ask.

“Of course not, Dave. You know I'm right.”

“I don't, actually.” You half expect her to turn and snarl at you, but she just keeps gliding along ahead of you. “I trust you, obviously. I just don't see what you're seeing, so I don't actually know, you know? That's what I'm saying.”

“Then I'll show you.”

You'd helped her a little when she started putting things together, but mostly you just wanted to hang out last weekend. Maybe you should...? Nope, no. You still feel no regret. John's dad makes some excellent ribs. She drags you to her desk, even though you usually have your little meetings of the minds over at your desk. It's much more comfortable, less exposed. At least she shoves you towards the chair by the wall.

“So far we have at least seven cases that all fit the same pattern. A clearly violent homicide, no attempts to clean up the scene, and no one around the victim knows anything. Nor, might I add, is there any physical evidence. Nothing at all, forensic or otherwise. Of course, there's those that were living with a partner, roommate, or family member, but they've all been eliminated.” She's getting excited now. Who knows how long she might talk? You sigh inwardly and wish you'd grabbed an extra taquito. “No suspects, no motives, no witnesses, no evidence. It's unusual enough to have one case like that, wouldn't you agree?”

You shrug and nod. “No one else seemed to think it was weird, so I thought maybe it was just because we're newer to this.”

“Now, consider that instead of just one very unusual case, we have seven, that are all unusual in the exact same way. By simple logic, they are most probably related, correct?” She pulls a stack of papers out of her desk and begins to flip through it. You nod again when she looks up at you expectantly. “What are the ways in which these cases could be related?”

“Well, uh.” You tap the little balanced bird sculpture on her desk and watch it swing around. “The victims could know each other, or have mutual friends. They could frequent the same bar or work at the same office. They could live in the same area, which I guess they sort of do since they're all in our district.”

“All good to consider, but none directly answer what we need to know.”

“Well we don't really know much, do we? Maybe I'd have a better answer if we did.”

Rose sighs. “Obviously, that's why I'm pushing for my theory. Let's try again. What are the possible explanations for the clear and obvious parallels in all seven of these unusual cases?”

The weighted bird has returned to its equilibrium. You tap it again, a little harder. You can feel Rose watching you watch the dumb thing. “Didn't they used to give these out as like Burger King toys or something? I swear I used to have one.”

She just waits.

“You obviously want me to say they were all killed by the same person, but you already suggested it to me and I'm supposed to come up with something on my own.”

“You just don't want to believe it, do you.” She sits down across from you, leaning forward. “You would rather pretend all these cases are unrelated and unsolvable than admit the possibility that we're dealing with something as serious as a serial killer.”

You feel your nose twitch. “I already agreed that the cases can reasonably be called related in some way, didn't I? It sounds a lot like you're just hurling accusations because you'll do anything to make me say you're right.”

You glare at each other for a moment across the desk. At least, she knows you well enough to know you're glaring at her through your sunglasses. And you know her well enough to know what her mild expression actually means.

She folds first. “I spoke rashly, and that was unfair of me. May we continue?”

“Okay. Alright.” The bird is still wobbling around on its little spire. You really want to think of some other possibility, anything other than what she wants you to say. Partly just because she wants you to say it, but at the same time you really aren't all that excited about something so dangerous being on your plate. “Maybe, uh. Maybe they're copycats?”

“Of who, Dave? None of these seven were sensationalized when we asked for information. Have you ever heard of something like this previously?”

“Not really, no. It's the total lack of forensics that stumps me. Especially without even cleaning the scene.” This time the bird practically flings itself around its pivot point. You might have tapped it harder than you meant to. “You really don't think there's another explanation? You think they were all killed by the same person?”

“Yes, Dave. I see no other plausible conclusion.”

“And you think it's only these seven?”

“I haven't had the opportunity to look much further into the files, since I only had the weekend. But you're right, there may be more that we're not seeing yet.” She's looking down at her files again. You're not sure if you're free to go or not.

“So uh. What do you need from me? Am I gonna get stuck digging through old files until I die or something? Cuz I'd do it, but I won't like it, just so you know.”

“I don't know, Dave.” She finally sits down. Now that she's not furious, she looks tired. Exhausted? Not a good time. “Do you believe me?”

“You've presented a compelling case. So sure. I believe you.”

“That's enough for now.” This time her smile is genuine.


	4. Dave: Help out

You're stealth-sketching a comic on the corner of a report Rose copied out for you to read over. She even gave you a fistful of colored highlighters and a detailed description of her color-coding schema. You really are trying, you owe her that much. It's just... so boring. It doesn't help that you have one earbud in and your favorite drawing song came on. The god of shuffle forced your hand.

“Dave, we have a witness!” If there was a door separating your desk from the rest of the room, Rose would have just busted it open like a cartoon character. She has to settle for looming over your desk, grinning wildly. “Everything fits the profile, but this time we have a witness. This is exactly what I need!”

“Damn, Rose, okay. You sure are excited about this whole violent murder thing.” You don't bother to hide the comic from her. Apparently she's too excited to notice anyway. You'll be sure to sign it for her before you give it back.

She schools her face into a more polite expression. “I'm just eager to put a stop to these heartless, senseless killings. It's not like this is fun for me.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“She's waiting for you, room 3. She says she saw something but we can't get much out of her. Can you handle it?”

“Of course. I'm a professional.” The light in her eye isn't as well hidden as her smile. You'd better make this one good.

\---

Rose hadn't warned you that it was a little kid. She looks about 12? Maybe 13? No way of knowing until you start talking to her whether she's shy or ready to play ball. You're going to have to wing this one. You duck away to steal a couple cookies from whoever in the kitchen before you actually dive in. Better safe than sorry.

“You're not going to believe me anyway,” she announces before you've even had time to sit down.

“What makes you say that?” You slide one of the cookies across the table. So she's a feisty one.

She stares at the cookie, then your hand. “Because it wasn't real.”

Wasn't real? Was this the denial of witnessing something traumatic? Something about that strikes you the wrong way.

“I'd like to hear about it anyway.” You lean back in your chair, playing it cool. You might have to provoke her later, but for now you'll give her room to breathe.

She stares at you in total silence. For 60 seconds. (You counted.) You don't even blink.

“Why?” She snatches the cookie off the table while you're distracted. Or at least you're guessing that's what she thinks.

You take a bite of the other cookie as you think about how to explain. “My sister and I think whatever you saw might help us catch a bad guy,” you mumble through a mouthful of crumbs.

“You have a sister?” She's clutching the cookie in both hands. Very defensive posture.

“Yeah. We're twins, but she acts like she's older than me. She's a detective too.” You eye each other for a moment. 12 seconds.

“And if I tell you, it'll help her?”

“Yeah. She'd be really happy.”

“Even if it wasn't real?”

“Even then.”

Her angry mask cracks, just for a minute. Underneath it, she's terrified.

You stand up slowly, carefully, and walk around to the other side of the table, with your cookie and your chair. She scoots over to make room for you.

“So tell me about this unbelievable fake thing you saw. Was it in the house or somewhere else?”

“House.” She seems to be curling in on herself. You try not to mimic her posture, keeping your own deliberately relaxed.

“Hmm. Was it in the bathroom? I've seen some scary stuff in bathrooms.”

“Nuh uh.”

“The living room?”

“Nope.”

“The kitchen?”

She's quiet.

“Were you going to get a snack?”

“Daddy says if I can't sleep I should come downstairs and get some milk.”

So it was past her bedtime. “Was it hard to sleep?”

“I, uh... I got woken up by a noise.”

“Was it a loud noise?” You take another bite of cookie. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her do the same. You give her another minute to respond before you ask again. “Was it a scary noise?”

She just nods.

“Alright, so.” You stretch. “There was a loud scary noise keeping you awake, so you wanted some milk since your daddy told you it would help you sleep. Right?” She nods. “And then there was something in the kitchen when you got there?”

“It was green.”

Green? That's a strange color to associate with a gruesome murder. You just raise an eyebrow at her.

“It was green and huge and had a head shaped like a skull! I saw it, okay? None of you stupid grownups believe me but I saw it!” She stands up and slams her hands down on the table. “It was a monster and it was punching Mom!”

You feel your heart clench. “Hey, let's take it down a notch. I believe you, okay?” She's glaring at you. But there's something under that expression of anger. You push your sunglasses up into your hair so she can see how serious you are. “I believe you.”

She meets your eyes, but not for long. She starts to glance away and then back, over and over. Had you made a misstep?

“Your eyes are red.”

Oh. “Yeah. They've always been that way.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, they're just like that.”

The fight's gone out of her now. She looks down at her hands sheepishly. “That's cool I guess.”

You break off a piece of your cookie to offer her, since she dropped hers. She mumbles a quiet “thank you” and sits back down. All this kindergarten sharing stuff shakes loose an idea.

“Hey, if I brought you some paper do you think you could draw me a picture of that monster? I bet my sister would really appreciate it a lot.”

“I'm not very good at drawing,” she hedges.

“Neither am I.”

You bring some more cookies back along with the highlighters you'd been using earlier. You're sure that whoever's cookies they were would agree that they're going to a good cause. Also you just don't really care. The drawing she gives you is grotesque and strange, but she feels a little bit less tense now. She even waves happily at you when her dad comes to pick her up. You wave back and offer an awkward smile. The man looks absolutely exhausted. Maybe it was for the best that someone else took care of his kid for a couple hours.

Rose is waiting at your desk when you finally make it back. Her eyes are shining, but she's managed to contain her grin this time. You push the drawing into her hands and slouch in your chair. “Can I be done now?”

“Almost.” She waves the paper at you. “What is this?”

“Our eyewitness account.” Rose squints at you disapprovingly. “Look, this is what she saw. All that Rorschach bullshit and whatever is your wheelhouse, not mine.”

“So according to our only eyewitness, our killer is a literal, impossible monster.”

“Kids come up with some crazy shit under duress. At least it's not _literally_ nothing.”

Rose just drops down into the spare chair across from you and sighs.


	5. Rose: Research

“We need something to call this guy.” 

Rose is still frowning down at the drawing. There's a book open beside her. It looks heavy and boring. “I suppose a name would make things slightly more simple, if only for convenience's sake.”

Rose's apartment is always so stuffy in the weirdest way. It's not exactly unpleasant, but it's certainly not the kind of place you'd actually want to live. It's all velvet and lace and junk. But she promised you pizza and John's out of town so it's not like you have anything better to do on a Saturday. You stare at her bookshelf, or one of them, but you're mostly just bored.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

Oops, quiet too long. She's looking at you now. “Uh... Shit, I don't know. All we've got to go off of is that drawing.”

“Does it remind you of anything, perhaps?” Her face turns in just such a way that you think maybe it's supposed to. You come over to the table to look at it again. It's kind of disturbing, maybe even more because it's sort of simplistic.

“... Didn't John's cousin have some weird skull phase for a while? That's really all I've got.”

“Jake? Hmm.” She flips a few pages of her book, and apparently doesn't find what she was looking for. “Perhaps we should ask him about it.”

You deliberately interpret that to mean John, and not his weird cousin.

turntechGodhead [TG] started pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TG: yo  
TG: dude  
TG: are you there  
EB: hey!  
EB: i'm kind of busy right now actually! can it wait?  
TG: itll take like 5 seconds  
TG: its a work thing  
EB: oh  
EB: rose must be breathing down your neck then  
EB: what is it?  
TG: you know that dorky shirt your cousin used to wear  
TG: jake i mean  
TG: with that skull on it  
EB: yeah sure  
EB: i think he still has it  
EB: what about it?  
TG: was it like  
TG: a reference to something  
TG: i know the kids a megadork  
TG: but was it from like a movie or something  
EB: i don't know!  
EB: gosh, i feel a little silly  
EB: he wore it for ages i should know what it is huh  
EB: you could ask him?  
TG: thats what i was trying to avoid  
TG: sigh  
TG: whatever  
TG: thanks i guess  
EB: no problem!  
EB: i'm sure he'd love to talk about it  
EB: we should have another movie night soon  
EB: gotta go, dinner's ready!  


ectoBiologist [EB] is now an idle chum!

You sigh and rub your eyes behind your sunglasses. Rose looks up at you patiently.

“John doesn't know.”

She simply raises an eyebrow.

“He said to ask Jake.”

She continues to stare at you in silence.

“Ugh, fine! Fuck. You're so demanding, you know that? Such a hardnosed taskmaster. Putting me through all this suffering instead of just doing it yourself, how cruel. You'd better get me a fuckin large.”

She smiles sweetly and pulls out the pizza menu with the coupons she got in the mail last week. “Veggie, right?”

“No fuck that shit I want pepperoni. Get with the program, Rose.”

She glances meaningfully towards the phone in your hands.

“Fine!”

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT]

TG: yo  
GT: Why hello there!  
GT: You know, i hadnt noticed before that our chumhandles are tidy little mirrors of one another!  
GT: Isnt that strange.  
TG: yeah sure  
TG: look dude  
TG: i just have a quick question is all  
GT: Oh. By all means!  
GT: What can i do for you chum?  
TG: you know that shirt with the skull on it you used to wear all the time  
TG: was that like a reference or something  
GT: Oh! Funny you should ask.  
GT: I actually just found it as i was going through my closet yesterday.  
GT: It still fits isnt that something  
TG: super  
TG: look this is kind of a work thing  
GT: Ahh i see  
GT: Ill be sure to keep it hush hush  
GT: *wink*  
GT: Is it something dangerous?  
TG: no just  
TG: can you answer the question  
GT: Of course!  
GT: Uh  
GT: What was it again?  
TG: the shirt  
TG: is it like  
TG: a thing  
TG: is the green skull thing a thing  
GT: Oh right! So easy to lose things in this old noggin of mine.  
GT: I think my grandma mentioned its some kind of ancient beast or the like. It sure sounded like an adventure at the time!  
GT: Besides skulls are cool.  
TG: do you remember anything more about it  
TG: like a name or something  
GT: Supposedly it shares my surname or something like that.  
GT: English that is.  
GT: I suspect it was a load of gobbledygook to get me excited about clothing to be frank.  
GT: But it worked so score one for grandma i suppose!  
TG: well that was pretty useless  
TG: thanks for your time or whatever  
TG: also skulls aren't cool

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT]

“All he said was his grandma made some shit up so he didn't feel bad getting clothes as a present like a baby.” You flop dramatically onto the velvety couch. It's actually pretty soft. It sucks.

“What was it that she told him, did he explain?” Rose finally stands from the table to come loom over you. Her face looks really weird from this angle. You shove the phone at her face rather than explain when she'll just ask to see it for herself afterwards anyway. She must find it more interesting than you did because she practically snatches it out of your hands. She raises a finger to shoosh you as you lunge up to protest.

“What, what's so important that you steal my own hard-earned property?” You absolutely do not make grabby hands at your phone as she squints at the words suspiciously.

“No... That would be...” She's off in her own world now. You hurl yourself back onto the couch dramatically. If you don't get your phone back soon you're gonna scream.

She does sort of give it back, although it's more just a distracted dropping onto the couch than actually handing it to you with a rightfully deserved apology or anything. She's run off to one of the other bookshelves, in her somehow less frilly bedroom. She doesn't come out again until there's a knock at the door.

You... probably do make grabby hands for the pizza. She waits until you've got half a slice crammed into your mouth before announcing, “I think we may have a name.”

She produces a book from nowhere and opens it triumphantly over like half the table. Why are all her books so huge? There's a green skull monster roaring across one page, and the words “Lord English” in big font opposite with a bunch of smaller probably boring stuff underneath it.

“Well, it's as good a name as any at least for now, right?” you mumble through a mouthful of pepperoni.

“Lord English, is it?” She's already lost in thought again. You take advantage of her distraction to steal a couple slices of pepperoni off her half of the pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're welcome y'all. I barely got this done today. coding is hard :c I used sbubanite's guide, although I would suggest skipping straight to the second chapter


	6. Dave: Ask small big questions

Rose is pacing around your apartment, chewing her thumb in thought. You're tempted to stop her before she starts to bleed, but that would just make her angrier.

“It's impossible,” she mutters. “It's simply impossible.”

Her pacing is making you nervous. You can't go do anything else, because the conversation isn't over yet. Although it never really started anyway? She just sort of burst in and started pacing. The rules are fuzzy. Still, you stay standing where you are, sort of near the couch.

“If it's impossible, why not dismiss it?”

She doesn't miss a step. “I can't.”

“Why not?”

That gets her to stop. She blinks and stares past you. “There's something about it that won't leave me alone. I know it's impossible, but... why? What makes it impossible? I don't have any evidence against it. I know there's no such thing, but it's dogmatic. Everyone knows there's no such thing. But why? From what evidence?” She's gone from endless, restless energy to entirely still, except for moving her mouth to speak. She must be really wound up. Your back is starting to get tired.

“Hey, maybe you should sit down.”

She blinks again, then sinks robotically onto the couch. You sit down in relief beside her.

“Are you there?”

“Please leave a message.”

You sigh. “Alright.” She just needs a minute, that's all. She'll come back soon, you're sure of it. “Alright.”

About a minute of silence passes (67 seconds) before her posture begins to loosen. She heaves a sigh and puts her hands against her face.

“Sorry, about that.” She murmurs. She won't look at you. “I'm just tired.”

“I know.” You put your arm over the back of the couch. Not touching unless she chooses to lean into you, but leaving a space open for her. “It's okay.”

You try to avoid talking about the case for the evening. You could both use a break. Instead, you end up putting on a random episode of Merlin, one of Rose's secret favorites. (“It's pretty boys just running around being clueless, hardly Arthurian,” she insists as she remains riveted to the screen. You suspect she has a crush on Morgana. Or Gwen. Or both? You, on the other hand, are (non-romantically!) fond of Arthur and Merlin. It kind of reminds you of you and John. You're rambling. Stop it.)

She seems a little bit calmer when she leaves for the night. You mentally pat yourself on the back. Score one for mindless television.

\---

She's not at work the next morning. You tell yourself she's taking a day off, or even just working from home. There's not much for her to do here anyway. You pester her as you leave the office, but don't receive a reply. That's fine, sometimes she doesn't answer. She's just taking a break. It's fine.

\---

She is there the next day. She gives you a tired smile from her desk, but doesn't come over to chat like she has been so often lately. You manage to catch her sometime in the afternoon. She looks like she's already wrapping up to go home.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She looks up from the files she's tidying. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, uh.” You sit down in the spare chair. “You weren't at work yesterday. It was boring.”

Another tired smile. “I had an appointment, that's all. I didn't mean to concern you.”

“Right. I just wanted to... check.” The bird on her desk is still. You feel like you can't move. “You seem tired.”

“I've been busy researching this case. This... Lord English.”

“Have you found anything?”

She doesn't respond for a minute. “I'm still working on it.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She just sighs and shakes her head. “I'm fine, Dave. Really. I may need you to go over some more files this week, if you would.”

“Yeah, of course.” You hate going over files.

“If you'll excuse me.”

Rose slides gracefully out from behind her desk and leaves you frozen. You wish someone would come tap you, set you into motion. But instead you sit. No one touches you. It takes someone dropping something heavy (an armful of files?) to free you. You don't even shut down your computer before you leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feelin a little catatonic m'self today, pardon me.


	7. Dave: Turn in homework

“For real though, Rose.” You're in her apartment again, files scattered all over the table. Who even needs a six person table if they live alone? “You aren't really seriously considering this, are you?”

She sighs and looks up from the file she's been frowning at for 15 minutes. “Don't discount me, Dave. I am well aware of how absurd it sounds.”

“Yeah, it's fucking nuts.”

“Mind you this whole case has been absurd from the beginning. I am not saying it is the best conclusion, or even that it is particularly probable. Simply that I cannot dismiss the possibility as long as it is just that. Possible.”

“It's not possible. It is quite literally impossible. You know that.”

“Everyone knows that, of course. But _why_?”

It's your turn to sigh and let your head flop back. It feels like you've just been talking in circles.

“Were you able to contact the neighboring districts?” She prompts. She must be just as tired of it as you.

“Yeah.” You dig through your backpack to pull out more files. “No one else had as high a concentration as us, but there were a few cases that fit the profile. I already highlighted everything as per your frilly guidelines.” It had taken almost three days. You hadn't been that bored in years.

“Oh. I appreciate your forward thinking.” She takes the files as you hold them out to her, flipping through them slowly. “Was there any additional information? Or just more of the same?”

“One report makes mention of a witness, but doesn't have any witness statements.” You start to fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. It's not as soft as it used to be. “I still had a ton of other reports to read though, so I haven't followed up on it yet.”

She “hmm”s distractedly as she continues paging through. “How old was the report?”

“About 6 months.” 5 months and 20 days, but if it actually mattered she would probably draw a timeline herself anyway. Maybe that would be a good idea? “Hey, do you think maybe we should make a timeline of all these cases?”

She gestures to a thin line drawn in the margin of her notes. It's basically unreadable because it's so fucking small.

“Alright well that looks pretty useless, no offense. I can start on a bigger, more collaboration-friendly one.”

She frowns slightly at the word “collaboration” as if you're not sitting right here collaborating with her literally right this second. As if you'd go behind her back to ask for help. She points you towards an antique-looking end table whose drawer is packed with all sorts of paper. You grab a couple sheets of plain white and start rummaging around for a marker.

After a couple minutes (2 and a half) Rose sighs and waves you towards one of the kitchen drawers. It seems to be the requisite random shit drawer. There's always a random shit drawer in every kitchen. This one is full of batteries and rubber bands, plus 3 mismatched knitting needles for some reason. Buried under a heap of paper clips is a single black marker, the thick kind for writing garage sale signs and labeling moving boxes. It would bleed through the paper.

“Do you have anything else?”

But she's not paying attention anymore. Her nose is buried in the files again. Whatever, it's her table. You pull the tape out of the junk drawer and sit back down across from her.

It takes nearly two hours to get the timeline completely assembled, since Rose keeps taking files out of your stack and making you refile the ones she was reading before. You're exceptionally meticulous with it, maybe a little bit passive aggressively. Every case is placed on the timeline, with details about the victim and the crime scene bullet-pointed beneath it. Very professional. Very fucking boring. You don't even leave any doodles in the margins.

“Rose I'm starving.” You flop down onto the table dramatically, accidentally smearing your cheek with marker.

“Then go home.”

“No pizza?” You probably do not pout. Adults do not pout. (You are probably pouting just a little.)

“You know pizza is unhealthy and shouldn't be a staple food in any reasonable diet.” You bet she eats pizza all the time and just talks a big game when you're around to seem better than you.

“You know if I go home I'll just order pizza anyway,” you threaten.

“Yes, but I will not be obligated to eat any of it. I'll see you tomorrow, Dave.”

You are definitely pouting now. She's been so busy with this dumb case! Yeah, it's also your case, and you've been helping, but she won't even let you stay for dinner? You obediently grab your backpack and shuffle out the door, casting a puppy-dog glance over your shoulder before letting it slip close. She doesn't even look up at you. The sunglasses probably make it way less effective anyway.

You order a large stuffed crust pizza on your way home partly out of spite. (Partly because you really are hungry.) You watch like 4 episodes of Merlin without her, also mostly out of spite. (Partly because it's pretty fun. It's more fun with your sister, though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sick yesterday sorry y'all. actual shit will probably start happening again soon.


	8. Dave: Make some calls

The neighboring precinct is happy to share details of the case with you, especially when they hear your last name. You don't dwell on it. You just focus on the elaborate doodle that's ended up on the corner of your desk pad. They promise to get the witness over to you right away. They still haven't explained why there were no statements taken. You have a sinking feeling about that.

It doesn't help that Rose's desk is still empty every time you glance at it. That makes you uneasy too. It's just one day, you remind yourself. You do not allow yourself to pester her just because she's missing one day. Play it cool.

You don't even have anything to work on right now. Just Rose's pet theory. And no one else will come near the serial killer idea which means, by extension, no one will really come near you. Not that you mind. Usually it means you get to be left alone to do your own shit, which is great. But today you don't have shit to do, just wait for this witness. It's... super boring. (And bored, as it often does, means anxious.)

You intentionally put in only one earbud when you turn on your music so you would hear if anyone approached, but you still practically jump out of your skin when one of the other detectives comes to tell you the witness has arrived. She just smiles and brushes it off. Seems good-natured. Can't remember her name for the life of you, though.

You're practically blinded by the sunny optimism just radiating from the woman sitting in the interview room. She just seems really excited to be in the room at all, let alone have someone come see her.

“Hi! Are you Mx. Strider? My name's Sam. I'm autistic.” It all tumbles out of her at once as she grins and jiggles her knee up and down. “It usually makes it easier if I start conversations with that. Skips the suspicion step.”

You feel yourself brightening in response. “Cool shit, Sam, me too. You can call me Dave.”

“Wow, really?” Somehow her excitement ramps up even further. “I hardly ever get to meet other autistics! Nice to meet you Dave! I guess we probably can't be friends due to like ethics and junk, I dunno. That's too bad.” Not that you could really keep up with her if you were friends. Ah well. Nice to not be the only one for once, anyway. “Oh, do you mind if I use one of my fidgets?”

“Nah, go ahead. Whatcha got?”

“Weird rubber animal.”

“Nice.”

She pulls it out and starts to stretch it, still bouncing her leg and looking around the bare room like it's fascinating. It occurs to you that she seems awfully chipper for a murder witness. You suppose it was long enough ago that it's not so unreasonable.

“So, Sam.” You settle more comfortably into your chair. This is definitely not a case where you need to look professional. “Did they explain what I need to talk to you about when they brought you here?”

“Yeah, but I'm not sure why my name even got written down. They said I wasn't reacting 'right' for watching someone die, but like whatever.” She rolls her eyes. You wrinkle your nose sympathetically.

“Gross.”

“So what did you want to ask about?” Her eyes dart to your hands for a second before she pulls another rubber animal, a dinosaur, out of her pocket and holds it out to you wordlessly. You take it. Nice texture.

“We had a bunch of similar deaths in this area, and my sister thinks it's a serial killer. The case that had your name in it matched the pattern of the deaths we're seeing. So I need to ask you just about what you saw, in general, since it didn't get written down, or at least I don't have a copy of it. Maybe you saw something that we can use, even if it seems small or pointless.”

She nods solemnly. You appreciate the effort. “I think they didn't believe me, even though I've hallucinated before and this definitely wasn't one. But you're not one of them.”

“I trust you to tell me the truth.” You tilt your head towards her.

“Okay, so.” She lets the rubber of her animal snap back into place for emphasis. “I was coming home from work and heard an awful lot of noise in the hall. It was probably around 4? That's usually around the time I get home, I can't remember if I might've stayed late or anything that day. Bad at time. Anyway, no one else was like poking their heads out of doors or anything so I figured it wasn't important or something, but one of the doors between the stairs and mine was open. Which is weird, because no one ever has their doors open unless they're like actively leaving or coming home. I was just gonna glance in as I walked past, I didn't want to be nosy. They don't like it when you do that.

“So there's all this crashing and banging, and like a roar sound? Like ultra-yelling. So I walk past the door and try to look inside, and there's just. Blood, all over. Real greusome. And this dude I'd seen a couple times is laying on the floor, still looking like he's trying to get away, and there's just this enormous figure standing over him. I mean gigantic. Bigger than any person I've ever seen, and all muscle. I think the lighting was pretty weird, but even taking that into account I'm pretty sure he was literally green. They were facing away from me though. Smooth head, shaved or bald I can't tell the difference. Hands kinda looked like claws.”

You nod, scribbling everything down as quickly as you can. “Did you notice anything else about this guy?”

“I mean, I kept walking because I didn't want to cause any trouble, but I made sure to call the police as soon as I had a door behind me.”

“You did the right thing,” you repeat automatically. She snorts in amusement.

“Did I notice anything else...” She twangs the rubber animal thoughtfully, nearly sending it flinging across the room. “Whoops. Their outfit was weird. Garishly bright, really. Or maybe there was some really weird lighting making _everything_ look green? I don't know. It looked like a neon green coat, and then just. Plain torn-up pants. Didn't notice any shoes. They were definitely the one doing the roaring, though. I've never heard a person make that noise before, although I don't think I've ever seen anyone that furious before either. They were definitely pissed about something.”

You roll the dinosaur between your fingers as you write. It's quiet except for the sound of your pencil. She looks like she's focusing on something.

“Can you think of anything else to add?”

She squints at the wall before shaking her head ruefully. “Nope, that's everything I have. Is there something I can do if I remember something else?”

“I'm sure if you contact your local police they'll pass the message along, or you can leave a message for me here.” You offer your borrowed dinosaur back to her.

“You can keep it if you want.”

You hold it out to her anyway. She shrugs and accepts it.

After she leaves you feel better than you have in days, even when you see Rose's empty desk. She's fine. It's just one day.

\---

She's not at work the next day either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me if I end up accidentally slipping into like, stereotypical autistic voice or anything :/ it'd really suck if I ended up making bad representation and never realized.


	9. Dave: Worry

You don't see her all week.

You restrict yourself to four unanswered pesters.

You lose two days slumped on the couch, very determinedly not thinking about her.

It sucks.

\---

tentacleTherapist [TT] started pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Hello, Dave.  
TG: yo  
TT: I do apologize for concerning you.  
TG: i wasnt concerned  
TT: Your messages were spaced out over a number of days.  
TT: You only show such restraint when you're exceptionally concerned.  
TG: whatever i dont care  
TG: where were you  
TG: not that it matters  
TT: I was visiting Mom.  
TG: for like a week  
TG: arent visiting hours just afternoons  
TT: Perhaps “visiting” is not exactly the term I should have used.  
TG: oh  
TG: so uh  
TG: fell off the wagon huh  
TT: Something like that.  
TT: It felt like the right thing to do.  
TG: well  
TG: i uh  
TG: hope it helped i guess  
TT: As do I.  
TT: Would you like to come over for dinner?  
TT: I will not be ordering pizza.  


\---

Her apartment looks normal. Or as normal as it ever looks, with the over-the-top frills and lace and everything. She looks normal too. Mostly. Are you just imagining it? You shrug it off.

“I interviewed that witness.” She probably hasn't seen the report yet. That's probably a safe thing to talk about.

“Were you able to learn anything?” You don't even like tea. Why is there a tea set on the table?

“About the same as before. I left the report in your desk. Could it be a suit or something?” You throw your hands up in sudden inspiration. “It could be some full-body latex shit, that would explain the weird color and the total lack of DNA!”

Rose gestures for you to sit. “That is a possibility, and would neatly explain some of the unusual circumstances.” Mysteriously, the pot does not contain tea when she pours it, but hot cocoa. You eye it hopefully. “It would also give us a lead, as such a thing would most likely be custom-made, wouldn't you expect?”

You shrug. “Not my area of expertise, although I know a guy. Should I follow up with him next?”

She slides a cup of hot cocoa over to you. It even has the shitty tiny marshmallows you love. “That seems like the logical next step.”

You make a face. He's not exactly your favorite person. But Rose must be having a hard time, if she had to go “visit Mom” for a week. You don't want to think about it.

Now you feel awkward. There's this big-ass elephant in the room and you're just staring right through it like it's not there. But you can't bring it up. She seems fine, you reassure yourself. She seems fine.

It'll be fine.


	10. Dave: Wish you didn't know a guy

It's not... _exactly_ like you're ashamed of the time you spent making a living off the kink scene. It was a good income, especially for a kid without options. Okay, phrasing it that way sounds skeevy. You mostly just drew shit. Sometimes you'd get commissioned for designs that would be taken to other more three-dimensional artists and sometimes that necessitated explaining your ideas to those artists so they actually got it right. That's how you know... _this_ weirdo.

You're tempted to put off contacting him as long as possible, but you're not sure how much more Rose can take. You send a brief “hey” and immediately log off the old forum again so that you can avoid dealing with it, at least until after lunch.

It goes mercifully unread until close to dinner. You'd left work early since there was so little to do and are deeply involved in this new comic page you're drawing. You hear a blip from your open email window and see, not that there has been a response to your message on the forum, but a new chat window, blinking expectantly.

Eugh. You forgot he had your email.

EZ: yooo lil dude  
EZ: it's been forever  
DS: yeah  
EZ: so what've you been up to? got some work for me?  
DS: no  
DS: just a question about your work maybe  
DS: anyone in your little circle still making those latex bodysuits  
EZ: I can ask around, but it's been pretty quiet  
EZ: most everyone from the old days has moved on to greener pastures  
DS: worth a try  
DS: oh well  
EZ: why? don't tell me you're getting up to some unpaid shenanegans ;)  
DS: ew  
DS: never make that face again or im blocking you  
EZ: yeah, alright, don't get your feathers in a floof.  
EZ: I'll tell you if I hear anything alright?  
DS: sure  
DS: gtg 

_Eugh_.

You spend an hour or so (75 minutes on the dot) searching around, seeing if anyone else offers that kind of custom work above-board. Even send a couple emails. Not much else you can do.

\---

Rose starts missing work about once a week. You give her a look the day after, the first couple times, but she just smiles tiredly and waves you off. You do your due diligence chasing down every latex lead, as one guy says they heard about another guy who told them about another and so on, but you're not able to really get anywhere before you get a phone call.

“Dave.”

“Rose!” You practically leap out of your seat as you begin to pace. It'll take ages for you to find your tablet pen where it's been flung under the couch.

“I know you haven't finished your research on the latex suit possibility, but I have a new direction to pursue.” You don't like this. There's something wrong.

“What do you mean?”

“Go to my apartment. There's a book on the second shelf by the table, the spine is mauve cloth with gold lettering.”

“Oh great. Mauve. That'll really stand out against the rest of your décor.”

You hear her sigh. “Just, please. There's a bookmarked page I want you to take a look at. You still have keys.”

“Wait a second, why can't you just bring it to me or whatever?”

“I'll explain later, Dave. It's not safe. Just read the book, okay?”

You don't answer. There's definitely something very wrong. You guess she takes your silence for assent, because she murmurs her goodbyes and hangs up.

\---

Her apartment isn't that far from yours. It's still not a journey you look forward to making on such short notice with little reward. But she didn't tell you the actual title, or the page, so you can't just look it up from the comfort of your own home.

All through getting dressed you contemplate putting it off until tomorrow, but a pang in your gut stops you every time. So you shove on your ugliest shoes and trudge down to the bus stop, adjusting your headphones fitfully.

There's something very strange about being in her apartment without her. It suddenly feels much larger and much smaller, all at the same time. It sucks. You do a quick image search of “mauve” to figure out what you're supposed to be looking for and let out a little grumble when it turns up about 4 distinct shades of purple. All of which are scattered throughout this stupid place. At least you remember her saying something about it being near the table, you'll start there.

She also said she bookmarked a page for you. So, purple cloth spine, shelf near the table, bookmark. There can't be that many books that fit the bill, right?

\---

Of course there can.

After 25 minutes of shuffling through the bookshelf, pulling off each one with a bookmark and purple spine, you've got a stack that nearly teeters over your head waiting for you on the table. Of course she couldn't make this _easy_ , damn. She's going to be so pissed at you when she gets home, there's no way you'll get all of these back exactly where they were. You flip to each bookmark in turn and try to guess at whether it could possibly mean anything to you. The first dozen or so are all dead ends, mostly the kind of stuff she would love to bother you with as kids but not really relevant here (or at least, you hope so).

Finally you come to a rather intimidating looking book. There's a small red flag sticking out of the side. You can tell when you open the page that this was definitely what she wanted to show you. The text is densely packed, and she's left notes all over the margins. Just looking at it makes your head hurt at first. But you force yourself through it and start to read.

It doesn't make sense. It's a lot of weird garbage about death and rebirth and gods? It sounds like some video game bullshit. You try your best to read the whole thing but it just feels absurd. You end up shelving it sideways just so you can find it again in case she sends you back.

You don't hear from her until you see her at work, and when you ask her about it she just shakes her head and darts her eyes around meaningfully. This is definitely not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped last week cuz I forgot how busy the last two months of the year always are, but I've got a handle on things now. sorry -n-


	11. John: Sleep over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it occurs to me I never clarified before now that even though sometimes the chapter titles are actions by other people, the pov is always dave. whoops -n-

You and John are sprawled across the living room, staring mindlessly at the TV. It feels like you haven't seen him in ages. He's still the same dopey goofball as ever.

“I haven't heard from Rose in forever, is she doing okay?”

You can't help but be disgruntled at the disruption, not that you liked the movie at all. “She's just busy.”

John narrows his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, stone-faced.

“Fine, whatever. I know I can't make you talk.”

You don't remember the rest of the movie.

\---

It's late. After midnight, certainly. Whatever time people start to get loopy. 1:45. John blinks at you sleepily from his corner of the couch.

“For real though, is she okay?”

You heave a sigh. “No. But I don't think sticking your nose in it will do any good.”

“What about you, then?”

You just groan and turn back to your video game.

\---

You think John's asleep. It's nearly sunrise. You've been avoiding sleep a lot lately.

“What happens when we die?”

John stirs at your muttering, but doesn't open his eyes.

You sigh and lean back against the couch.

“I don't know man, why? Are you dying?”

“Technically we're all dying,” you point out.

“Did you get stuck watching shitty Lifetime movies again or something?”

“Nah man, I just.” You thump your head gently against the cushion behind you. “Rose wanted me to read this book, some real off-the-wall shit about dying and becoming immortal gods and shit like that.”

You hear John roll over somewhere off to the right. “Sounds weird.”

“Definitely.”

You muddle through another encounter before you grumble wordlessly and pause the game. “Like, have you ever heard anything like that?”

“Maybe.” John looks thoughtful, despite keeping his eyes resolutely closed. “It kinda sounds like stories my dad used to tell me when I was little, although of course he didn't talk much about death or anything.”

You turn to rest your chin on the couch. “What do you remember?”

“Something about... sometimes when we sleep, we can wake up on another world. Which, I have no idea how I'm supposed to tell the difference between that and dreams, but he said it's different.”

“Another world?” You prompt. You cringe internally. Your friends keep saying they hate it when you do this.

“Yeah, yeah!” He's getting more animated now, clearly not sleeping now. His eyes are still closed though, what a dork. “I remember now, I think. It was supposed to be all golden and happy, with like cartoon clouds in the sky. And these little chess guys! The uh, the... Damn it, lost it again.”

You can't help but make a face. Something about “chess guys” puts a nasty shiver in your gut. John, obviously, does not see it. “Do you remember anything else he said?”

He flops towards the back of the couch melodramatically. “No, but I'll tell you if I do, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Chess guys. Chess guys. Chess guys? Like Harry Potter, those living chess sets? You have no idea. Why does it bother you?

\---

You jerk awake suddenly. But.

This isn't your room.

Well, it kind of is? But you didn't fall asleep in your room.

Everything's still dark, even though it was almost dawn before.

There's a strange texture against your skin.

You blink rapidly and reach up to rub your eyes under your sunglasses.

There's a weird sensation, kind of like tilting sideways and falling in slow motion, and when you remove your hands from your eyes it's light again, full-on sunny actually. Your clothes feel like they should, and you're still in your living room. You can hear John showering noisily.

Your neck is killing you.

“Well that was fuckin weird,” you mutter aloud, partly just to make sure you can.

What was that?

\---

You end up not explaining it to John. He helpfully doesn't bring up your early morning conversation, either. You're tempted to send a message to Rose, but she's already far enough off the rails as it is. You think you heard something once about it's bad to actively feed into delusions. You're really not sure though. Maybe it's one of those case-by-case things?

John laughs at something on the TV. You hadn't even noticed it was on.


	12. Dave: Wake up

_This is a dream_ , you think to yourself deliberately.

You're sitting up in bed, but it's not your bed. You fell asleep in your own apartment and you were safe. This... is not your apartment.

But it's nauseatingly familiar.

There's just something about the way everything's arranged, still pretty similar to the way you arrange things now, but.

The closet is partway open. You can see the box of carefully arranged trash. If you got up to dig through it there would be cans of soup underneath.

_You're an adult now. Sort of. This isn't real._

You could think yourself in circles till the cows come home, but the knot in the pit of your stomach is still there. It doesn't matter how many times you remind yourself you're safe.

Your door opens silently.

It's... not him. It's a little black chess man.

Chess man!

You've seen this before. That should be reassuring? Maybe? You can't tell. The knot's still there.

The little chess man totters up to you guilelessly, munching on a bag of peanuts.

“Hey...” you mumble.

He blinks at you and scrunches up his eyes (smiling? Probably?) before holding the bag of peanuts out towards you. You take one and “smile” before looking around the room again.

Now that something's different, you can see the other differences. For example, everything is fucking purple how did you not notice that? And your clothes are weirdly clingy, totally the wrong material. It occurs to you now that this gross fabric might be part of the knot in your stomach.

But this is still a dream, isn't it? So shouldn't it follow dream-rules and like, let you change into less shitty clothes?

You uh, think really hard about different clothes you guess. But it's still this silky bullshit. You sigh.

“So this sure is a thing, huh?” You turn to the little chess dude, who's drifting around the room looking at the walls. He seems really, really nonthreatening.

You end up laying back down, more for the sake of comfort than anything else. Sitting upright was getting tiresome.

When you open your eyes again you're back in your room for real. Your current room.

The odd dream sits with you all day. You end up calling out sick because the idea of being around anyone sounds like hell.

\---

You call out the next day too. And the next.

\---

Rose calls you on the third day. You don't answer the first time. Or the second. You sort of laugh at yourself as you pick up the third time. How symbolic.

“I'm fine, okay?”

“Bullshit, Dave. You've missed an entire week.”

“Almost a week,” you correct.

“Where are you?”

You sit in stubborn silence. You don't need her fussing over you right now. Especially since it's probably her fault.

“You know I have a spare key.”

You sigh in defeat. Where else would you even be, anyway? You don't bother to say anything anyway. You really don't want to deal with this.

“I'll be over in an hour, you'd better have clothes on.”

Why wouldn't you have clothes on?

\---

Rose barges through your door 63 minutes later, holding a large pizza with a box of breadsticks and a 2-liter of apple juice carefully balanced on top. You're still on your couch, enthroned on a mountain of blankets and candy wrappers. She tactfully refrains from commenting on your clearly childish behavior.

“Burnt out?” She asks instead.

You consider it for a moment before shrugging. It doesn't feel the same as other burnouts, but that doesn't eliminate the possibility. She brings you a plate and a cup and straw before setting the food down between you on the couch.

She lets you get through an entire episode of Brooklyn 99 before she asks any more questions. She must be really worried.

“Where have you been?”

“Here.”

“I suppose in a literal sense, yes, but what happened?”

You glare at her. “Like you're one to talk.”

She visibly flinches. You can't quite find it in you to feel bad for telling the truth.

“Look, all that honesty shit has to go both ways, okay? Why should I tell you what's up with me if you won't tell me what's up with you?”

Rose chews at her lip for a moment. She looks more vulnerable than she has in years. “You're right.

“I suppose you deserve some explanation.”


	13. Rose: Explain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for brief discussions of mental health

“Well?”

She's sat quiet for several moments. Perhaps she's unsure where to start.

“When you... 'visited Mom' a while ago, was it voluntary?”

“Yes.”

You mentally grit your teeth. “Was it suicidal ideation?”

“Not... exactly.”

You wait her out.

“A lot of the things I've found while researching this case should be untrue, but I cannot wholly convince myself that they are, as the evidence of falsehood is dogmatic in nature. This made me somewhat... concerned that I may be losing track of what is real and what is not.”

You wait some more.

She sighs heavily. “I have... yet to come to a satisfactory conclusion on that point. Do I believe I am not delusional because I am correct, or because of my delusion? I am afraid I have no way of knowing.”

You nod, frowning slightly. It certainly sounds confusing.

“It is.”

You guess you must have said that out loud without noticing.

“Have you been having strange dreams?”

That startles you. “Not particularly,” you hedge. “Why?”

She squints at you disapprovingly for a moment before shaking her head. “I saw you flinch when I asked, Dave. You don't have to tell me any details, I know it was rather jarring for me too. But I do want to ask one thing.”

“Sure, I guess. What is it?”

“What color was your room?”

\---

You deliberately avoid asking or answering any more questions for the night. Rose watches you like a hawk as you keep finding excuses to be somewhere other than on the couch next to her.

“You can't avoid this forever, Dave,” she calls ominously as you find yourself rushing to your bedroom. Avoiding? You? Naw, you just really needed to... find a thing. Yeah. Here's a thing. No, that's not the one.

At least she still remembers not to come into your room.

She is sitting on the couch, watching you expectantly when you come back empty-handed, though. She seems to have provided herself with a cup of tea. Do you even have tea?

“It was purple!” You blurt, before you can get your mind back on track.

Her expectant look widens into a smile. “I see. Thank you for your contribution.”

“What's that supposed to mean, huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” She sips her tea smugly. “Just that if you are beginning to wake up on Derse as well, it adds confidence to my theory.”

“Hey, you already had me read that book about all that bullshit, it could totally just be suggestion.”

She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose that is a possibility. In that case, I have another question for you. What were you wearing in these dreams?”

You crinkle your nose involuntarily. “Silk. Full body silk, which I hate apparently.”

“And have you ever worn silk before?”

“... Huh.”

She has a point there. You've never worn silk anything in your life, how would you know what it feels like to wear it? Extrapolation? Confabulation? You must be thinking out loud again because she's still watching you and smirking.

“At least you've learned something from me, it seems.”

“Hard not to with you throwing terms in my face all day long.”

She presses a hand to her chest in fake-astonishment, grinning. “Throwing terms in your face? I would never!”

Despite your agitation, you can't help but grin back. She's been subdued for so long.

“Ha!” She looks triumphant at seeing you smile. You try not to feel self-conscious.

\---

It's sometime in the early morning. Probably 2:45. Rose prefers to sleep in her own bed, even though you worry about her going home alone in the dark.

“So I'll see you at work tomorrow?” She looks hopeful in the dim hallway light.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Get some rest.”

“You too.”

\---

It's still the wrong bedroom when you wake up, but for some reason it feels less menacing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was late again, holidays and all that :( also, an additional note: I have not personally experienced delusions firsthand, so if I get something incorrect or phrase something inappropriately I would really appreciate being told. thanks


	14. Dave: Please just go to work for once

“Strider!” Your boss roars before you even have both feet through the door. “Escort, plain clothes! Now!” A file is shoved in your hands and you are shoved back out the door in short order. Not even so much as a how do you do.

Rose sheepishly texts you the address a few seconds afterwards. At least cab fare gets reimbursed by the office, if you actually submit it. (You basically never submit expense reports.)

The guy waiting for you has something... off about him. The texture of his skin is just visually strange. But whatever, right? Not your problem. Maybe he over-exfoliates. He greets you tersely and starts walking without bothering to see if you'll follow him.

“Friendly fellow,” you mutter under your breath. You have to rush to catch up with him. When you do, he seems to be muttering to himself as well, although you sure hope your voice doesn't carry like that.

“Fucking useless, sending this fucking pubescent dweeb to 'escort' me, I need protection not a fucking playmate--”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

He wheels on you, face contorted in anger. “So what if you can? You got something to say about it? Huh?”

“Damn, okay. You certainly know how to project.” You mentally high-five yourself for the double entendre. “You know we're like the same age, right?”

“Oh good, that's really comforting. I'm already fully aware I'm incompetent, so why would I trust someone the same age as me who will be just as incompetent if not moreso!”

You just roll your eyes behind your shades and make a shooing motion. “Whatever, man. You do you, I'm just here to hang out nearby. Keep storming off to wherever.”

This time when he mumbles it's actually quiet enough you don't hear it.

“Come again?”

“I just wanted a fucking burger, god. I'll eat and go home and then you can go fuck yourself.”

This guy is so annoying. It's kinda fun.

\---

The McDonald's is busy when the two of you walk inside. Why don't they have walk-thrus at fast food places? You know they do it at those weird coffee huts sometimes. Seems like a logical way to keep their dining area less loud. Anyway, this guy, you know you just looked at the file but you can't remember his name, puts off such an aura of hatred that people actually clear a path for him like he's parting the fucking Red Sea. Damn, already picking up on his speech a little, quit that. He stomps up to the counter and orders whichever combo, you don't care, then pauses. It takes you a second to realize he and the cashier are both staring at you expectantly.

“Uh... Just a six-piece chicken mcnugget please.” You try really hard to tune out again after that. You hear what's-his-face change his combo to a large and start to reach for your wallet as the cashier reads out the total. Your temporary companion jostles you roughly with an elbow and pays for the food before you can recover.

The two of you join the awkward herd of people waiting near the pickup counter.

“That was the meanest nice thing anyone's ever done for me, man.” You deliberately keep your voice as deadpan as possible. “Or the nicest mean thing? I'm really not sure where you're going with this. I'm flattered, but--”

He and you both are spared from your pointless word-vomit when a man bursts in the door, startling everyone.

He has a gun.

Your ears are shut off entirely, your body moves on instinct. You were told to protect this asshole, so you shove him behind you, chest forward towards the gunman. He must be genuinely frightened, as he doesn't seem to push back at all.

You feel a thud. Then two. Either the guy loses his nerve or he decides his job is done, because he's not there when you look up from the blood on your shirt. They'd rushed you out the door so fast you hadn't grabbed a vest. There's someone gripping your arm too tight.

“Hey... Karkat...” That's his name. You remembered just in time. You grin weakly. “Not so useless... after all... huh?”

Your ears must have come back, but your eyes are gone now. You hear sirens but you can't see a damn thing.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, a week late _again_. don't worry, I already have the next chapter written, it may go up a little early to make up for it. :3


	15. Dave: Deja Vu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, it's on purpose

“Strider!” Your boss roars before you even have both feet through the door. “Escort, plain clothes! Now!” A file is shoved in your hands and you are shoved back out the door in short order. Not even so much as a how do you do.

Rose quietly texts you the address a few seconds afterwards. At least cab fare gets reimbursed by the office, if you actually submit it. (You basically never submit expense reports.)

The guy waiting for you has something... off about him. The texture of his skin is just visually strange. But whatever, right? Not your problem. Maybe he uses the wrong foundation. He greets you tersely and starts walking without bothering to see if you'll follow him.

“Friendly fellow,” you mutter under your breath. You have to rush to catch up with him, a familiar feeling in your legs. When you do, he seems to be muttering to himself as well, although you sure hope your voice doesn't carry like that.

“Fucking useless, sending this fucking photoshop-enlarged child to 'escort' me, I need protection not a fucking playmate--”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

He wheels on you, face contorted in anger. “So what if you can? You got something to say about it? Huh?”

“Damn, okay. You certainly know how to project.” You mentally high-five yourself for the double entendre. Have you made this joke before? “You know we're like the same age, right?”

“Oh good, that's really comforting. I'm already fully aware I'm incompetent, so why would I trust someone the same age as me who will be just as incompetent if not moreso!”

You just roll your eyes behind your shades and make a shooing motion. “Whatever, man. You do you, I'm just here for the fries. Keep storming off to wherever.”

This time when he mumbles it's actually quiet enough you don't hear it.

“Come again?”

“I just wanted a fucking burger, god. I'll eat and go home and then you can go fuck yourself.”

This guy is so annoying. It's kinda charming.

\---

The McDonald's is busy when the two of you walk inside. Why don't they have walk-thrus at fast food places? You know they do it at those weird coffee huts sometimes. Seems like a logical way to keep their dining area less crowded. Anyway, this guy, Karkat you think his name was, puts off such an aura of hatred that people actually clear a path for him like he's parting the fucking Red Sea. He stomps up to the counter and orders whichever combo, you don't care, then pauses. It takes you a second to realize he and the cashier are both staring at you expectantly.

“Uh... Just a six-piece chicken mcnugget please.” You try really hard to tune out again after that, glancing around at the other people crowded around the pickup counter and scattered around the tables.

You freeze.

There's a guy sitting at a table with a couple others, around the same age. They're probably friends, and they're all dressed like juggalos. Gross. He laughs, then one of his friends points towards you and your charge. You pat your pockets surreptitiously. Alright, you can work with that. You tap Karkat on the shoulder, point towards the bathroom, and then head for the door. Good thing you programmed your phone to dial 911 if you pressed the home button 6 times.

You step in front of the door just as the guy reaches for the handle.

“Hi there.” You smile in the way that neurotypicals find offputting. It's a fun little trick. “You wouldn't happen to have any concealed firearms in your vehicle, would you, sir?” What are you talking about? You've got a terrible sense of deja-vu when you look at this guy's face. You've just got to keep him from going out this door. You've got to. You have no idea why.

“What the fuck? Let me go.”

“I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that. Y'see, the McDonald's on 10th and Cherry doesn't appreciate firearms on their property. Kind of a company policy thing.” You hope you said the address clearly enough. This won't work for much longer. If he were a dog, he would be growling.

“Look kid, just get the fuck out of my way and everything will be fine, alright? I ain't got no business with you.” He reaches up to shove you aside. You shift your feet just right and stay put, damn it. He's a strong guy, but you've had worse.

“Unfortunately, sir, you've just given my partners probable cause to search your vehicle.” You can hear the sirens. He won't have time. “Given that you have just assaulted an officer.”

You grin and flash your badge. He looks suddenly panicked. As the patrol car pulls into the parking lot, you hold the door open, motioning the would-be shooter towards them. At least he has the good sense not to resist.

Karkat decides to take his food home instead. He leaves a random assortment of fries dumped into your mcnugget box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hee hee :3


	16. Dave: What the fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small warning for this chapter in the end notes
> 
> edit: forgot the chapter title before now whoops

“Rose, what the fuck!” You managed to contain yourself until you got in the door, at least. Now you're pacing, fingers tangled up in your hair. Your breath is too loud, calm down. Rose is watching you.

“What happened?” Her face is too blank. She's hiding something.

“You know that fucking escort assignment I was given today? And I got shoved out the door in a hurry. I didn't have a vest.”

Something in her face shifts, too slight to tell what it is.

“I got shot, Rose.”

She's not reacting right. She's too calm. Something is wrong. “You look fine, though.”

“That's the thing.” This is wrong, this is wrong, this is all wrong. “I got shot, but I... didn't? I can remember it, kind of. But I'm fine, and I arrested the guy. Or, well, the guy got arrested, anyway. But he got arrested before I got shot? Or, fuck. I don't know, Rose. It happened but then it didn't? And I've got a pounding case of deja vu, and—” Your mouth snaps shut. You're done with words for now, you suppose.

“That certainly sounds like a strange experience, Dave. And I am glad to see you here in one piece.” She adjusts her face minutely back to blank. “Would you like to sit down?”

You glare at her mutely. She holds up a hand.

“I thought it might be polite to offer. You appear to be unharmed, and while of course someone should inform the boss that he put you on assignment without proper equipment, I fail to understand what has you so rattled.”

You fling one of your arms out in frustration. Your other hand stays tangled in your hair.

She sighs and goes to rummage in a drawer, bringing back a legal pad and promotional pen. You bare your teeth at that, a grin but without the humor. There's a good space to crouch defensively between the couch and coffee table. You take it.

 _i was SHOT_ you scrawl.

“No you weren't, Dave. You're fine.”

_but i REMEMBER_

“It's not unlikely for people to imagine things so strongly they feel like memories, especially when it comes to narrowly-averted trauma.”

You snarl at that. You know it didn't get filed wrong.

 _how did i know he had a gun in his car?_ The pen tears the paper on the hook of the question mark.

“You're a detective, and you're autistic. Your entire life revolves around pattern recognition.”

_thats not it_

Your letters stay lowercase but you're carving into the paper. She's not listening.

 _i have the entire memory of going there ordering chicken nuggets trying to pay and getting shot._ You jab fiercely at each punctuation. Your letters are getting spikier, smearing together. _i also have the entire memory of going there ordering chicken nuggets and turning to look at the dining area. theres a police record of the guy being taken in so that cant be made up. but ive never been shot before and it didnt feel as advertised. so THAT cant be made up._

You shove the legal pad towards her, even though she's probably been reading it all as you write it. You're reaching your limit. She _has_ to understand, somehow. She just blinks at you for a moment. You want to scream but your mouth doesn't work. You pull the pad away from her face.

_both memories are almost identical up to the point where they change. in one i try to pay and get shot protecting karkat. in the other i look around and get a guy arrested for possession of firearms without even knowing which car is his. HOW_

You have to fight to keep from writing “HOW” over and over and over. You need answers or you're going to explode.

She... glares at you. And gestures towards her bookshelf. Your face contorts. That's not an answer.

“Go get the book I sent you to find.”

You're frozen to the spot. After a brief staring contest she goes to get it instead.

She drops it open on the coffee table, a few pages past the bookmark she left for you. There's a series of symbols, all brightly colored. A vivid red gear in particular draws your eye.

“I thought this might happen.” Then she smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for like, not quite a meltdown but related. also rose acting kinda put upon about the not-quite-a-meltdown.


	17. Rose: Reveal

_you set this up!!!_ you scrawl viciously, tearing the paper again.

“Now hear me out, Dave.” Rose raises her hands placatingly.

“No fuck you!” Your voice doesn't sound like yours. It doesn't matter. You hurl the paper and pen in whatever direction and try to storm away. For some reason you end up in her bedroom instead of in the hallway of the building. You skitter underneath the bed and curl in on yourself.

You hear Rose's careful footsteps shortly after. She stops in the middle of the room, then comes to sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. You freeze.

“Dave, please.”

You stare at her silently. You want to rock but your body is frozen. Stay still, stay still, you'll be safer. At least she's not watching you.

“This is serious, Dave. People are dying, painfully.”

Silence.

“It's been happening to me too. Not the same thing, I think my powers have more to do with seeing what will happen, rather than changing it. But...” She sighs. “I... I knew this would happen. I knew it had to be you. No one else could've saved themselves like you did.”

You glare at what you can see of her back. Your jaw is clenched tight.

“You really did experience both timelines. But you have abilities beyond normal humans.”

You must have made a noise of disgust at that, because she backpedals quickly.

“No, no, I'm not talking about that savant bullshit. This doesn't have to do with being autistic, Dave, this has to do with who we are.”

What does that even mean?

She replies to you again, maybe you spoke without noticing. “I'm not sure I understand it myself. But there's a reason that you and I are waking up on Derse, a reason that you and I are able to do these things that shouldn't be possible.” She hesitates again. You feel a pang in your chest. “We can stop all this. We can stop this monster. We have the abilities. But we need to be able to access them. And right now... they seem to be rather outside of our control.”

She sighs. It's quiet.

“It was reckless of me to allow you to be endangered in such a way. I can explain my actions but that doesn't excuse them.” She begins to fidget aimlessly with the carpet beneath her. “I'm going to leave the room now. You can come out when you're ready.”

True to her word, she sighs again, stands up, and walks away. You hear the door close softly behind her.

Maybe you could just. Stay under here for another minute or two. Or ten. That sounds good.

\---

When you do finally shimmy out from under the bed, it's dark outside. The ambient light from assorted power strips and street lights is enough to keep you from tripping on anything. Rose keeps her room tidy anyway, not much to trip on in the first place.

You nudge the door open silently and peer out into the hallway with the one eye you can fit against the gap.

There's blue light in the living room, but nothing else. You guess that Rose is watching TV with the lights off, even though she'd always scold you for straining your eyes. You take a couple cautious steps towards it.

She's wrapped herself around a pillow, staring fixedly at the TV. She doesn't even let her eyes dart towards your movement, which you appreciate. You clear your throat half-heartedly.

“There's juice boxes in the fridge,” she mumbles, still not looking at you. When you open the fridge, they're front and center, a whole unopened package of them. You take one. You consider it. You take a second one for good measure.

She pats the space beside her on the couch when you return to her field of view. You hold the extra juice box out to her.

“Thank you, Dave.”

You settle yourself on the couch, a small distance away, as she carefully works the straw into the little foil circle.

You each sip your juice in silence, not really paying attention to the TV, but not really thinking about anything else. At least, you aren't. You certainly don't feel confident in your ability to guess Rose's thoughts right now, or ever.

The only other words exchanged that night are Rose's raspy “goodnight, Dave” as you shuffle out the door. You might've just grunted in reply. You're exhausted.

When you collapse into bed, your eyes reopen almost immediately in that strange purple room. You don't have it in you to be surprised.


	18. Dave: Guess this is your life now

This might as well happen.

You sigh and rub at the material on your arms. Surely since this is some kind of dream-whatever you should be able to change the fabric, right? Lucid dreaming or whatever? You just... squint at the fabric disapprovingly. Nothing happens, again.

You sigh again and look around the weirdly purple room. Other than being super, invariably purple, it looks almost exactly like your childhood bedroom. You're not terribly invested in pinpointing exactly when it may be representing. In fact you'd rather not think about it. You've done far more than enough traumatizing shit today.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if this weird semi-lucid recurring dream is going to prevent you getting rest. Although REM sleep is when dreams are supposed to happen, and REM sleep is supposed to be like, really important or. Whatever. You don't actually care. You don't actually care about anything right now. Even the gross feeling of silk all over your body only registers as a mild annoyance, like you imagine flies buzzing does to neurotypicals.

You sit up out of bed and reach to adjust your sunglasses out of habit. It occurs to you partway through the motion that you probably don't have them here, since your clothes are all different too. But no, when your finger reaches your nose unbidden it finds the slim strip of metal to push against. That's weird. Out of curiosity, you try lifting them away from your eyes.

The room is... slightly less dim, but still the exact same shade of purple from top to bottom. Rose would love it.

You let out a single emotionless “heh” at the thought and let them slide back down over your eyes.

It suddenly occurs to you that you have no idea if this room is leavable. There was a chess guy in here once or twice, and he _probably_ came from somewhere, but dreams don't always care about that kind of thing. Still, Rose keeps implying there's something more to this dream, so you might as well take a look and see how far this rabbit hole goes.

You know you're walking, because you're moving, but for some reason you don't feel much of anything from your legs. No bullshit silk pants, no cold tile floor, just movement without sensation. It would almost be nice, if it wasn't so fucking weird. Either way, you get to the poster-obscured door and crack it open.

There's a completely unfamiliar hallway on the other side. Generic and mostly empty, and still that same shade of monotonous purple. It seems to curve around. You'll get back to that.

The window in your old bedroom had been papered over a few times, which may be why you didn't think to look at it before now. Not normally anything to see there. But now that you're in an exploratory mood it may give you a better idea of where you are, as if it matters. You close the door silently and give it a short tug to make sure it's latched.

You move to the window, which is not papered over even the door still had its (monochrome purple) posters. Instead it's just an empty frame. You feel like you should be concerned by that.

Rather than show an ounce of self-preservation, you put your hands on the windowsill and lean out to get a better view of whatever may be beneath. You're high up, which feels close enough to right, even though many of the buildings around you are much shorter than you would expect. There's another tall building across the way, probably about the same height as the one you're in, assuming you're somewhere near the top.

And all of it is fucking purple.

You sigh, letting your head hang down between your arms. Your sunglasses stay in place as they should. There's spires below you, vague grand architecture you don't care to put a name to. A distant, somehow familiar sound makes you look up again.

There's movement in the window of the tall, distant tower.

\---

You wake up in your actual bed, rolling over to glare at the clock. You don't feel sleep-deprived, but you sure don't feel good either. You might as well get ready for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm switching to updating every other week at least for now since I seem to be doing better at that. still here though, promise!


	19. Dave: How are you still employed?

“I got shot yesterday, I shouldn't have to work today,” you moan, spilled across your desk like a box of crayons. Rose simply raises an eyebrow at you and pushes a handful of files against your arm.

“This case has barely moved at all between your and my... impromptu vacations. There's new information we need to catalogue and account for, new witnesses to speak to. You can't just flop around and complain all day.”

You raise an eyebrow in return. “Is that a challenge?”

“No, Dave,” she sighs. “It's easy to forget when it's work, but we're working with human lives. People are going to keep dying until we can do something about all this.”

You hold out a hand for the files and sit up in order to actually see them.

“I definitely still agree that there's something going on, but I don't know what you really expect to do about it. We've got almost nothing to work from except for your uh... unusual theory.” Nothing's really catching your eye as you flip through the pages. A lot of really similar deaths, with that same total lack of evidence. “Oh yeah. I never did get anywhere with the latex idea. I almost forgot.”

Rose seems unperturbed. “I didn't expect much, in all honesty. We've no reason to shift our focus right now, anyway.”

The oldest file in the stack is at the bottom. Something about it doesn't feel right to you. You set the others down to look at it more closely.

“Hey, Rose?”

“Mm?” She's started paging through the other files herself, like she hasn't already read them. Probably just trying to feel busy.

“This name sounds familiar. Wait a second!” It was only yesterday, really, even though it might as well have been days for all you could really remember. “Karkat! It's that kid from yesterday!”

Rose's face is overly neutral. You guess that means she already knew, again. You a little bit hate her for that.

“Does that mean you know something about him?”

“I wouldn't say that. It's not like he was feeling particularly friendly. Except maybe after I, you know, literally took a bullet for the asshole.”

“Yes and no,” she retorts, almost automatically. You're going to be hearing that a lot, aren't you. “Just so you know, I believe he won't actually remember any of the first timeline, where you were injured. You remember it for some reason, likely because it was your action, but no one else knows that period of time happened twice.”

“Great, cool, whatever. Not like I did anything heroic or anything, why would I want anyone to remember that?”

Rose rolls her eyes. “Do you see anyone worth talking to?”

“Kid had a mouth on him. Can't tell if that makes him more or less likely to tell me anything.”

“So you want to start with this Mr. Vantas?”

You make a face. She takes that as a yes.

\---

“Ugh, it's you again.”

You've barely even shut the door behind you. Now that you're actually looking at him under the unflattering interview lights, he definitely looks strange. Not necessarily _bad_ -strange, but. Strange.

“Well hello to you too, sunshine.” You keep your face neutral as you sit down across from him. “Karkat Vantas, right?”

“What's it to you?”

“If you keep acting like you're hiding something, I'm going to have to find out what it is.”

He looks almost stunned at that. Did he think his defensiveness was somehow so visible as to be invisible? Fat chance.

“Look, Karkat. I'm not terribly interested in whatever bullshit you've got going on, to be honest. I'm here to do my job. And right now my job means figuring out who's killing all these people.”

Any anger or surprise in his face has been replaced with... hm. Melancholy? He looks fuckin sad alright? You don't know how close they might've been.

“How many are there?”

That's a weird question. You try to tally it up quickly in your head. “My partner suspects roughly ten known victims, maybe more. Why do you ask?”

“Do you have any suspects?”

Okay, this is very weird. That question especially raises a bit of a red flag to you, but you choose to put a pin in it and see what happens first. “I can't disclose that, unfortunately.”

“So no.” A bit of the irritation has come back to his face, though he still looks withdrawn. Maybe pale?

“If you're done with your questions, I'd like to get started with mine.”

He waves his hand in a dismissive “go on” gesture.

“How well did you know Aradia Megido?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just noticed my writing is pretty inconsistent in quality, which I don't think I can really change with anything other than practice. so this one is probably gonna stay kinda rough until the end, and maybe the next one will be better -n- I appreciate y'all sticking with me though


	20. Karkat: Start talking

Karkat puffs out his cheeks in a sigh. “Aradia was just a friend of a friend, really. We've done some shit together, but in groups you know.”

You nod encouragingly. He just shrugs.

“What kind of shit?” You prompt.

He's muttering under his breath again, but the lights are humming and you can still hear a little from the hallway and you can't pick out every word.

“Care to share with the class, Mr. Vantas?”

“Ugh, bossy teacher is not a good look on you.” He makes a weird clicking sound in the back of his throat and turns his gaze to you. “There have been... rumors. A friend of mine brought both me and Aradia in to start looking into it, along with some others.”

For being such a chatterbox, it sure is hard to get any real information out of him. You're half-tempted to continue this conversation somewhere else. This particular setting probably isn't helping matters. “What kind of rumors?”

“I know something happened yesterday.”

That hits you in the chest. “Well yeah something happened. I saved your ass from some juggalo clown while you were busy daydreaming about stuffing your face with garbage.”

He stares you down. “That's not how it really went, was it.”

“We can catch up about the good ol days later.” You set your jaw stubbornly. “I'm trying to get whatever information I can about the untimely death of your friend, and use that to keep it from happening to someone else.”

“Friend of a friend,” he corrects. “Look asshole, I think we can help each other out, but I don't want to just throw information around willy nilly. I don't know if I can trust you or any of the people you work for.”

You consider for a moment. “I don't know if I can trust you either.”

“But if you use my information and it turns out to be wrong, it doesn't come down on your head, now does it.”

That pulls a sigh out of you. You'd like to believe your department is better than most, but it wouldn't be the first time someone got off with a slap on the wrist for ruining innocent lives. “I'll go talk to my partner and see if we can work something out. Unfortunately if you give me any information off the record it can't be used in court and so on, so you may want to use this time to consider what your priorities are.” You stand and gather some scattered papers, mostly to look busy. “Want any juice or anything while you wait?”

“No, fuck that.” It sounds like that was supposed to have more bite than it actually did. You shrug and go back to Rose's desk.

It's not until she looks up from her papers that you notice the little seed of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

“That was awfully fast.”

“I want you to talk to him.”

She closes the file in front of her to raise an eyebrow at you. “Whatever for?”

“He doesn't want to trust us but if I bring you in it's more believable that it's actually just us.”

Rose sighs. “Dave--”

“No, come on, he really seems to know something! It's such a little thing, and if you don't he may not give us _anything_ on the record.”

She relents pretty quickly, all things considered. You choose to believe it's because of the promise of information instead of looking any closer at the bags under her eyes.

\---

Karkat seems ready to launch into some kind of diatribe when you open the door again, but he falls silent quickly when he sees Rose walk in behind you.

“Mr. Vantas, correct?” She holds out a prim hand. “My name is Detective Lalonde, my partner here Detective Strider felt it best for me to meet you as well. He mentioned you have some concerns about the security of any information you may share with us?”

He stands and shakes her hand. “Finally, someone with some fucking manners. I think we can help each other out, but I've been fucked over before.”

Rose nods sympathetically as she takes a seat across the table from Karkat. You feel it best to hover by the door rather than interrupt this miraculous encounter. He almost seems to _not_ hate her.

“Of course, I understand that law enforcement don't always inspire confidence, especially in those who have had bad experiences in the past.” She smiles.

“Karkat said he and the victim worked together on something with a mutual friend of theirs. He's not comfortable telling us what exactly they were working on.”

“The only one who stands to lose here is me,” he snarls.

“Au contraire, Mr. Vantas. I daresay I have much to lose if Lord English continues to run amok.”

That seems to catch his attention. You lean carefully against the wall, settling in for what may be a long battle of wills.


	21. Rose: Get more pieces

Even though you can see the interest in Karkat's posture, he scoffs. “Yeah, right. What do you have to lose, Lalonde? Another pat on the back from your father-fill-in boss?”

Rose actually laughs at that. “I see you came ready to play, Mr. Vantas. But I'm afraid you are incorrect on both counts.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table between them. “If I'm not mistaken, I said something that caught your interest.”

Karkat makes a show of acting unimpressed. “You've barely said anything at all, Lalonde. What could I possibly be interested in?”

Rose glances at you subtlely in your place against the wall. You just nod. Damn, you probably look so cool right now.

“That's true, I've given you very little information so far. Perhaps even less than you've given us. But I did mention a name.” From your position off to the side, you can see the smirk she's concealing behind her folded hands. Had she planned this from the second she walked in? “There have been no media interviews or press releases containing this name. Any internal files using the name 'Lord English' have been few, and access is limited. No ordinary person, even one with an interest in the cases involved, would have any sort of recognition for that particular moniker.”

You feel like you should be looming ominously or something, but that only works in movies. Besides, Rose seems to have a handle on things. You stay put.

“I read it in an old comic book once,” Karkat deflects. He doesn't stick the landing.

“What do you know, Karkat Vantas?” She leans forward further, staring into his eyes. Is there something funny about the way he blinks?

“Hey, Ro-- Detective. I just remembered something else you might find interesting.” You can feel your expression starting to mirror hers. “Remember what we discussed yesterday? After the quiet arrest?” You hope you emphasized it well enough. Normally you're interviewing alone and don't need to think about conveying meaning while withholding information. It's frustrating.

She hums in thought. “Yes, I believe Mr. Vantas was the one you were escorting at the time, was he not?”

Your gaze flicks to him for a moment. He looks rattled. “Indeed he was. Actually, I was hoping you could jog my memory, Karkat.” You turn to face him properly. “Did I try to pay?”

You'd thought over what you could remember over and over. That seemed to be where things split.

“Of course you did, you assho-- oh.”

“That day happened twice, didn't it.”

Rose's smirk has become a grin. It occurs to you this may be the only real support she's ever gotten for her theories, even from you. You try not to let your mask slip.

Karkat is glancing between you and Rose now. “I guess you figured out more than I gave you credit for, Detectives.”

Rose pulls the chair beside her away from the table, an implicit gesture for you to sit down and join them properly. You do. You don't even bother to try to put your feet up on the table, even though it's way more comfortable.

“So, Mr. Vantas. What do you know about Lord English?”

He shrugs defensively. “Some of it would sound pretty fucking out there, I'm sure. I know a lot of people are turning up dead, and no one's been arrested. I know this has been going on for six months at least, maybe more.” A pause. He seems to consider something. “I know he's not human.”

Rose, to her credit, takes it in stride. “Humans can do monstrous thing, you know.”

“No shit, Sherlock, but that's not what I meant.” The semi-permanent snarl is back on his face. “This isn't some 'men are the real monsters' horseshit, I'm talking literal, outer space, not human.”

“Alien?” she raises an eyebrow.

“In the most sci-fi sense of the word.”

“And how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion, Mr. Vantas?”

“Fuck it, fine.” Karkat pulls his sleeve up over his hand and starts to rub at his face with it. When he pulls his arm away, there's a grey patch on his cheek.

“Yo I think your sweater may have some dye transfer problems, dude--”

“Just shut up, Strider. Just. Shut up.” He seems to be trembling.

Rose, on the other hand, is leaning across the table to scrutinize him.

“I see...” she breathes. “My, my. Takes one to know one, I suppose?”

“Sure, whatever the fuck that means. We know Lord English is an alien because we've dealt with him before. On our home planet, Alternia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to come clean: I have no idea where this is going XD I've been winging it from the get-go. ps the prologue was probably shortly before all this karkat stuff.


	22. Dave: Catch up

Rose leans back in her chair, still carefully controlling her grin. “Please, tell me more about this home planet of yours. Or, no. Perhaps it would be better to start with what you're doing here on Earth, instead of there on Alternia. Oh, I have so many questions, this is fascinating.”

You feel like you're not totally following. Karkat just has a grey smudge on his cheek, what's Rose freaking out about?

He makes a strange chittering noise to himself before meeting Rose's eyes again. “Wouldn't it be in your own best interest to keep this off the record? People will think you're insane.”

“Oh, I'm already insane.” She waves a hand dismissively. “If you like, however, I'm sure we could come up with some kind of compromise. Dave-- Detective Strider is familiar enough with the guidelines to find a loophole.”

You blink hard and look up at the sound of your name. “Huh?”

“Do you need a moment?” She's looking at you with that little crease between her eyebrows. You feel so lost. But you get the feeling you'd just be even more lost if you left the room.

You shake your head.

“Okay. Is there a way for us to keep a submissible record of this conversation without putting it out there to the department at large?”

“Yeah, sure. I can arrange it later.” You try to rest your head on your hand as nonchalantly as possible. “So what exactly is going on here?”

“I'm a literal real-life alien, you fucking nitwit, and I just revealed myself to the two most insufferable humans alive because I don't value my own shithole life I guess.”

“Mr. Vantas, I assure you there are much more insufferable humans than I. Detective Strider, on the other hand--”

You kick the leg of her chair.

“Whatever. So are you actually going to ask a question, or should I just start saying whatever horsehsit comes to mind?”

“You mentioned you've dealt with Lord English before.” You've said it aloud before you've actually consciously remembered. “What were the circumstances?”

“A hell of a lot more destructive, that's for sure. Our culture is big on colonization, and the Condesce had a rivalry of sorts going on with him. Unfortunately for the rest of the universe, she tends to be pretty fucking cataclysmic at the best of times, even if she's just clashing with planets full of nobodies.”

“What made Lord English different from an entire planet full of 'nobodies'?” Rose leans forward curiously.

Karkat scoffs. “One is vulnerable to interplanetary weapons, the other is not.”

“That sounds... bad,” you mumble.

“That wasn't the only reason we left, but it sure was a big fucking part of it. For some reason we assumed Earth would be quiet enough that we could get some work done, but I guess that didn't work out.” Some kind of emotion flickers across his face and vanishes behind the perpetual irritation.

“Do you think he followed you here?” Rose muses.

Karkat seems to consider that seriously for a moment. “He certainly seems the type to hold a grudge, from what we've seen, but I don't think he had any particular grudge against _us_. He probably didn't even know we existed.”

“How large is your group?”

“There were twelve of us, but shit happens. Honestly it's kind of a surprise that Aradia may have been killed by English instead of just more bullshit infighting.”

You and Rose glance at each other at that. Murder sounds pretty severe for “bullshit infighting.”

“Is that like, a cultural thing? Are you aliens just hella violent?”

“I guess you could say that. We try to tone it down around you meatbags, although some are less fucking cautious than others.” He looks even more irritated at that. You suppose you'll have to look into that later.

“What's the purpose of this group? You've implied there's something more to it than seeking refuge.” You can practically hear the wheels turning in Rose's head. Now that you're starting to catch up, you're probably giving about the same impression.

“It's... hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

“We're studying a particular phenomenon, that may serve as a tool against Lord English. Or something like that. Honestly we're way more fucking limited than we thought we would be.”

Rose's eyes seem to light up with some new puzzle piece. “Phenomenon? Please, tell me more. Does it, perchance, have anything to do with a very particular type of dream?”

Karkat looks a little shocked. “Fuck, you too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blurgh I'm starting to feel like scrapping the whole thing and starting over. but the goal was to practice writing with regular checkpoints and actually finishing things. so I'm still gonna (try to) see this through! (ง •̀_•́)ง


	23. Karkat: Make some introductions

“I think perhaps it's time to move this conversation somewhere else.”

You raise your eyebrows at Rose. Of course, things can be kept semi-official no matter where you talk to someone, but this feels like a strange move to you. “What did you have in mind?”

“It's clear to me that Mr. Vantas must have some valuable information, and it also seems that his cohorts might be able to verify or supplement that information.” She leans forward across the table again. “I'd like to meet them. Would that be possible, Mr. Vantas?”

He makes that strange noise again. “I'm not... Fuck, okay. I'll send some messages.” He pulls out a phone with a weird squishy case. Your fingers itch to touch it.

“Well, Detective Lalonde?” You turn towards her slightly.

“Yes, Detective Strider?” Maybe it wouldn't be obvious to someone else, but you can see that she's almost vibrating with glee.

Karkat shoves his chair back from the table suddenly. “Okay, fine. They're expecting us.”

Rose's carefully concealed grin breaks out again. “Wonderful. Lead the way, Mr. Vantas.”

\---

The walk isn't as long as you expected. Although of course most precinct offices are located as conveniently as possible, so it's not that weird for important things to be close by. Karkat walks in silence at the head of your little parade, while Rose seems to be muttering under her breath between you. Did she pick that up from you? You can't remember.

He leads you around back of a row of buildings. You can't help but feel a little wary. Seems like a good setup for a trap and all.

But instead you just march up a narrow staircase and down a pretty neutral hallway of apartments. Karkat stops at one of the generic, unlabeled doors and knocks vigorously.

There's muffled speech from the other side. Your guide yells back something largely incomprehensible to you, and the door opens.

At least half a dozen heads turn away from glowing screens to look at you both. Rose smiles primly, keeping her wolf grin hidden for the time being. You're not really sure what to do with your face, what with so many eyes on you, so you sort of just wince.

“Here's another couple asshat dreamers.” Karkat jerks his thumb over his shoulder at you and slams himself into a vacant chair. “Not everyone's in right now, but this is Gamzee, Terezi, Vriska, Eridan, Sollux, and Kanaya.” He gestures vaguely in a circle, but it's not enough for you to match names to faces. It's dark as shit in here anyway, now that you're able to process more than the eyes on you.

“Good afternoon, everyone.” You're half-expecting her to curtsy, she's laying the charm on so thick. “My name is Rose Lalonde, and it sounds like I have a lot to talk about with you all.”

“And who's this loser?” One of them leans over the back of their chair, grinning pointily and staring straight at you. You see long hair shifting with them in the computer glow.

“Dave Strider,” Rose supplies for you. You're going to have such a headache later. “He and I have both started to wake up on Derse.”

“Oh really?” Man, their teeth are super pointy. Her? His? Their? Do these people have genders? You've just kind of been assuming Karkat was a dude this whole time. A question for another day. “Is it just you two so far or are there others?”

“I don't know of any others yet. I assume at least some of you have awoken as well?”

“Pfft, yeah, and then some. We've been at this shit for a while.” You're not sure who spoke this time. You wish someone would turn on a lamp or something. “So you clowns have been looking into LE too, huh?”

One of them seems to perk up a little at the mention of clowns, although they don't turn away from their computer. You frown internally. Why does something about that rub you the wrong way?

Your train of thought is rudely interrupted by a loud and very close sniff. You make an involuntary sound somewhere in the neighborhood of a “mnyeagh!” and flinch away.

“Hehehe, hi there.” Their grin is also super pointy. What is that? Do these people file their teeth?

“Uh. Yo.” Rose seems to have gotten wrapped up in some other conversation and is unlikely to spare you from this.

“Humans always smell so funny. Like one of those squishy candies with the goop inside.”

They're standing a lot closer than you would prefer. It's important to Rose that this goes well. “Uh, do you mean gushers?”

They sniff again thoughtfully then shake their head. “No, that's not it. Maybe it's a foreign thing. Have a seat, coolkid.”

You're waved towards one of the empty chairs. It, too, looks weirdly squishy. Rose takes a seat too, not as close as you would have liked. 

This day just gets longer and longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little later than intended, sorry -n- I think I might've been sick last weekend. I should be back on track for now though.


	24. Dave: This is exhausting

Rose rests her elbows on the arm rests of the unfamiliar chair. Either she's playing it cool or she's genuinely disinterested in all the little oddities of this place. Although it's still so dark in here you can barely see your hand in front of your face.

“Just take off your glasses then, nerd!”

Whoops.

You suppose whoever it was raised a fair point though, if it's so dark in here it's not like they can see your eyes very well, right? You see the one that had sniffed you grin as you push your shades up into your hair.

The room is set up like a computer lab, with desks shoved up against every inch of wall. Some of the people have turned their attention to you and Rose, but a couple are still focused on their computer screens. It seems like just about everything has that weird squishy quality to it, like Karkat's phone case and the chair you're sitting in. Even the computers. The desks themselves though look pretty normal.

You run your hands over the material you're sitting on. It's smooth and pliable in a way that reminds you more of cartoons than anything you've actually touched before. You stop when you feel eyes on you again.

“How did you figure all this out, anyway?” Now you can see who spoke, a short-haired alien with like, 3D glasses, but the really old kind with the blue and red lenses.

“My mother always had an... interesting taste in books,” Rose answers smoothly. “So when I started having strange and ominous dreams, I happened to have a tome on hand that described much of what I was experiencing, and much of what might be to come.”

The alien nods. You really wish you actually knew their names, not that it really matters you suppose.

“What about coolkid over there?” Damn, a lot of these guys wear glasses, huh.

“Of course I showed the book to Dave as well, once I had reason to suspect he was also involved.”

You're secretly grateful to Rose for answering for you, until you see another one of those pointy grins.

“What, can't he speak for himself?”

Rose is way off to one side, so you find yourself casting a frightened glance at Karkat, of all people. He is the closest thing to a friendly face in here, you suppose.

To your great surprise, he growls out “nobody cares, Serket,” before averting his eyes from you. That's, uh. Weird.

Rose's chair makes a not-quite-as-expected creak as she leans forward. You imagine she's starting to lose her grip on her delight, although you don't feel up to checking for yourself. “I get the impression that while we might be oddities for you, you are the ones with the information actually worth sharing, is that correct?” Some scattered nods. The one with the long hair turns back to their computer. Serket? That wasn't one of the names Karkat introduced before.

“It will probably be quite difficult to gather sufficient information on Lord English without assistance, as this appears to be his first real appearance on this planet.” This one, between the elegant speech and the dark lip color, reminds you of one of those vampire goths. “Although I do have to wonder, what are you hoping to accomplish with this knowledge?”

That's a pretty good question. Up until now you've felt like you were just doing your job and going along with Rose, but this seems pretty serious. You suppose you'll still go along with Rose, unless she decides something really fucked up again. Judging by the pause in conversation, she seems to think it's a good question too.

“Lord English is a monster. At first I considered it just doing my due diligence as a detective. But the more I've learned, the more greusome deaths I've investigated at his hands, the more convinced I've become that this is worth far more than my job. This monster needs to be stopped at all costs, regardless of the law.”

You can't say you blame her. If these guys fled to an entirely different planet to get away from him, he must be pretty bad. You're still a little on the fence over that bit about the law, though.

The pointy grins are back. You guess they liked that answer.

“Then welcome to the team, I suppose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doinnnnnnng


	25. Dave: Just don't pass out or cry

Okay, no. This room sucks. You let your shades drop back over your eyes, more from unease than anything else. You're checking the fuck out.

Rose is chatting with one or two of them somewhere next to you, but you're not processing a word she says. You're not processing much of anything at all until another chair rams into yours.

“Hey there coolkid, decided you were too cool to see?” There's two of them on the same chair, the one with longer hair clinging onto the back. The pointy grins are back.

You shrug.

“Ooh, too cool for words too, huh?” The one on the back of the chair leans forward. “What do you think, Redglare?”

“I think he's hiding something, Mindfang.”

Well, those sure were presented like names. You don't think you heard them earlier though.

Another chair comes gliding into the burgeoning cluster of misfortune.

“What's going on over here?”

This one is still very pointy, but somehow smoother? Graceful, perhaps? You don't know. Your head hurts.

“Buzz off, fussyfangs!” snaps the one with the glasses that are probably corrective.

“I simply wanted to see what all of this commotion was about, Vriska. I didn't mean to interfere.”

“'Didn't mean to' my ass, meddling is like your personal crusade. Now shoo!” The one in the chair proper reaches up a leg to shove the newcomer's chair away, before being thwarted by that goddamned Newton and being pushed off themselves.

You passively watch them drift away from you as if they're in outer space.

The next thing to disturb you is not a chair, but a gentle hand against the back of the one you occupy. You turn your neck with great effort to see Karkat pointedly not looking at you.

“They give me a headache too. Lalonde is just chatting about wizards or some bullshit now, if you want to step outside.”

You don't know how much difference it will make, but you follow him anyway as he heads for the door. You glance at Rose, who seems lost in conversation but still gives you a minute wave as you shuffle away. So she knows where you are. Good.

Only once you're back on the stairs does it occur to you that Rose could theoretically be in danger. It feels safe, and you're way more prone to false positives than false negatives when it comes to red flags. But still.

You open your mouth to say... something. But nothing comes out. Karkat doesn't seem to notice, so you just close it again.

“Why are you here?” he asks suddenly. You're caught off-guard.

You just kind of make some kind of noise, anything that might constitute a response.

“Ugh, whatever. What do I care?”

You guess that was about as good an outcome as anything.

Karkat plunks himself down on the bottom step and starts picking at the worn carpet under his feet.

“You can sit,” he mumbles. Your knees bend obligingly. “Do you like movies?”

He's looking at you for a response again. You nod.

“Back home, I used to love movies. I don't think I've watched a single Earth movie since we got here though. The titles are all so oblique.” You're really not sure where he's going with this. “Like, what does Pride and Prejudice even mean? Those are just random words.”

He doesn't turn to look at you, but you nod encouragingly anyway.

“One of my favorites was In Which A Lowblood Stows Away On An Old Timey Sailing Ship Before Discovery By A Midblood Who Takes Pity After Several Incidences Of Near Death At The Hands Of Mer People...”

Yep. You've tuned out. Your brain is frantically opening more spillways. You are not processing a word of this. Is this all the title of the film? It sounds more like a detailed plot synopsis to you, but you know diddly squat about aliens so who asked you.

There's something weirdly soothing about his chatter though. Maybe it's just because it's not silent but you're still not being stared at.

Maybe you should take him to an Earth movie. It would certainly make this discussion more processible.

He's stopped talking. Did he ask a question?

“What did you say, Strider?”

Oh shit.

You turn and stomp back upstairs. You can't leave Rose here alone, but you need to leave before you shove your foot any further into your mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made a one sentence addition to chapter 23 because I was staring at it. also whoops sorry this took like twice as long as intended, that was my bad. such is life when you're constantly sick. -n- I'll try to stay more on top of things now, at least in terms of schedule. the rest of it will probably continue to be a meandering mess.


	26. Rose: Try to be a good sister

“Rose,” you croak. She stops and turns to you. “Home.”

“Okay.” After some 'lovely to meet you's and 'oh yes we must's she strides over to you, still vibrating with excitement. She doesn't ask any questions, just offering more polite deflections on your behalf as you shuffle back out again.

You definitely cannot tell her that you may have unintentionally sort of asked out the closest thing you have to a lead. You didn't mean anything by it! You just... know how it might have sounded. You still don't even know if these aliens have a concept of gender. Ugh, you're too tired for this.

You just... desperately need a nap...

\---

“Fucking purple bullshit,” you mutter to yourself, sitting up. You don't remember getting home, but you're pretty sure you weren't so tired that you could just fall asleep mid-step, so you must have.

You pluck dispassionately at your shirtsleeve as you slide out of bed. It's high time you start learning your way around this place if you're going to keep waking up here either way.

The little chess guy with the funny hat doesn't seem to be here today. You suppose he had better things to do than watch you sleep (thank god for that). You wander down the hallway until you find some stairs, and then wander your way down those too. Somehow it feels less important than usual to make sure you know where you are. Your pretty sure your room is at the top of an exceptionally tall tower anyway so it's not like it will be hard to find.

Monochrome just does something to your eyes. It's not exactly awful, but it's not exactly pleasant either. There's a weird nagging feeling at the back of your skull.

There do seem to be more little chess guys though. Running newspaper stands, sweeping streets, delivering mail, all that jazz. It's like an honest-to-god functioning city out here. A couple of them look at you and then at each other, and yeah, you guess you look very different from these shiny little guys. Hopefully it won't cause any trouble.

You wander through the city streets. There seem to be layers of roadways, bridges high above you where people trot across from building to building. A street vendor peddles some sweet smelling food. You rummage through your pockets but come up empty. Something tells you your debit card wouldn't be much good here anyway.

It did smell pretty good though.

After an indeterminate stretch of wandering you notice a tall tower in the distance. You're pretty sure you've still been walking _away_ from where you came from, so that's a little worrying. Probably better to turn back for now.

Fortunately, there is in fact another tower behind you, and when you make your way back to the top it's your same old room--

With that _goddamn fucking puppet_ sitting in the corner. Staring at you with those wide, unnerving eyes.

\---

You jerk awake in... not your actual apartment. Where the fuck are you?

“Dave, thank goodness!” Rose seems about ready to fling herself at you for a hug, but she stops short. “You collapsed on the sidewalk and I didn't know what else to do.”

“Where?”

“We'd only gone a few blocks from the Alternians' location, so I asked them to help me carry you back here. I'm sorry, I know you wanted to leave. If you feel well enough, we can go home now.”

You sit up and put a hand to your head. You're pretty sure it's just the same headache as before but whatever the fuck just happened certainly didn't help.

You stare blankly at Rose, unsure what to do.

She pats your head gently and gestures for you to lay back down. “If you need some more time to reorient before you feel able to move, I understand. I'll keep my phone in my hand so we can go home as soon as you're ready.” She even turns her hand to show you.

An empty smile, and she disappears out of the room. You flop back down on whatever you're laying on and open your drawing app. Might as well do something useful while you distract yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look who's on time! it's me! fuck yeah.  
> I am still, like. totally lost as to where I'm going, but I refuse to leave it incomplete just because of that. it's a bad habit to get into and it's not really fair to the one person who's been nice enough to comment on everything XD
> 
> also, totally unrelated but I've started drawing a kirby every day. it's actually a lot of fun even though I definitely would never consider myself to be good at drawing at any point in my life. you can see them at kirby-the-gorb on tumblr.


	27. Rose: Rest

By the time you do make it home, it's dark. You were left in peace in whatever back room that was until you texted Rose. Half of the aliens were already busy or gone by then, which helped you avoid any more shitty questions.

Your head feels strange. Rose makes noises in the direction of staying to keep an eye on you, but you wave her off. Something about this feels wrong, but not internally. You're not sure how to explain it other than that. Either way, she won't be able to make much difference.

When you tell her so, she grimaces, but agrees.

You're left alone in your dark apartment.

“So. Aliens, huh?”

The empty room, predictably, does not reply. You sigh and rub your forehead. You should feel even more exhausted after that unexpected nap, but you feel jittery, unsettled. Maybe if you fuck around on your computer for a while you'll be able to sleep better.

You try to settle in enough to draw, or at least doodle some garbage. Maybe you could set up a late night stream, that would keep your head busy. But you can't get your hand to move when you have your drawing program up.

Instead you end up mindlessly browsing the internet, clicking vaguely through pages without really registering their contents. You think you might have intended to do some research on all the gobbledygook you'd heard today, at least what little you could remember of it, but evidently your brain had other plans.

If you got any sleep, it was dreamless.

\---

Rose is, predictably, waiting to pounce when you get to the office, manic grin firmly in place.

“Well?” She demands.

“Well what?” You mumble back.

“What do you think of the new information we've received in regards to our case?” You can tell your lack of enthusiasm is frustrating her. You're not really sure what you're supposed to do about it though.

The least you can do is try to be diplomatic.

“I think it's a lot to go over and it will take some time for me to process everything.”

She visibly deflates at your stiff tone. Probably still better than snapping at her, right?

“Do you at least believe me now?” All her energy has vanished.

“Did you not think I believed you before?”

“Well, no. You seem... skeptical at best, apathetic at worst.”

“Rose.” You sigh. “You don't even seem to totally believe yourself. How many times have you asked yourself if you were delusional?”

“Did you see them too?”

“Who, our uh... new friends? Of course I did. I'm not saying that was all your imagination, I'm just saying if you don't believe yourself fully, how can I?” You awkwardly put a hand on her bowed head. “There's clearly something going on here that I don't totally understand. Does that mean there's no explanation for it? Nah, course not. Does that mean the explanation you've brought me is the only viable one? Not necessarily. I'm not throwing it out with the bathwater, but I'm not accepting it as automatically true.” You wave your other hand through the air vaguely. “Even given recent developments.”

She nods quietly.

You let your hand fall away, not sure what else to do.

She appears silently at your desk at the end of the day. You walk to her apartment together without a word.

You're not sure if she's hoping to get more work done, or if she's as in need of a break as you are. You feel like you owe it to her, though you admit you're quite relieved when she just pulls out the stack of old VHS tapes you two had watched until they risked wearing thin ever since you were children. Her mother had tried repeatedly to offer updated replacements, but you weren't the only one in the family with a sometimes irrational stubbornness.

Your eyelids are starting to droop halfway through Anastasia when there's a sudden crash in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blah blah health excuses, as usual. but no matter how late a chapter may be, I won't just walk away without a word. promise.
> 
> I feel like I'm getting bogged down and going in circles, so I think it's time to throw something new at them >:3 I know it's mean to keep ending chapters on cliffhangers but it's the easiest way to keep things moving, even as slow as they are.


	28. LE: Say hello

Rose is suddenly fully alert beside you. She rests a hand against your shoulder, encouraging you to stay still. You incline your head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement.

There had been no noise at the door or the windows. No one should have been able to get in, in that case.

Unless they had been waiting.

You feel your soul basically leave your body, although you can also feel your heart pounding. You hear a soft click under a random line of dialogue as Rose picks up some spare knitting needles from her coffee table.

For the first time in a long, long time, you wish you had a sword in your hands. You make do with carefully slipping off your shoes to move as quietly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye you see Rose gathering her skirt into her waistband. It's not exactly a flattering look, but there's a good chance you two will need to book it.

You slink towards the kitchen doorway as silently as you can. The movie is still playing in the background, a blessing and a curse. At least it probably covers the tiny click as you pull up the camera on your phone. It feels safer than sticking your noggin into harm's way, and the dark kitchen keeps the glow almost unnoticeable.

There's definitely movement in there. You can't tell what it is, and at first you're tempted to dismiss it as the shaking of your hands, but it's... large. Almost grotesque. Humanoid, but not human. You look back at Rose, eyes wide.

She doesn't even have time for a questioning glance before there's another crash behind you. Now that you're closer and focused, you can hear what sounds like... eating? Whoever or whatever it is, it seems to be tearing its way through the kitchen. Is it hungry, or is it looking for something?

You're about to edge towards the door, flicking your wrist for Rose to follow, when a massive arm shoots through the doorway towards you. You dodge on instinct, although it's larger than you expect it to be and you still feel it brush across your chest. Rose lurches forwards, gripping her needles, as you scramble backwards.

It certainly is big. The person(?) that comes charging in is cartoonishly muscular, with a skeletal head and enormous glowing eyes. And it's standing between you and Rose. With those glowing eyes looking right at you.

Bears don't attack if you back up slowly, right? You start inching closer to the door, reluctant to break eye contact. Maybe if it stays focused on you Rose can... do something. You have no idea. This is bad.

The thing roars, throwing its arms back. Really committing to the bit. Your hand reaches out compulsively and grabs an umbrella. It's really not much, but you still feel a little less rattled with something in your hands. The weight is weird though. It feels more like--

It is.

You slash upwards at the arm now reaching for you, as the thing roars in anger and pain (you hope). Part of you wants to vomit. Your arms whip around again, anticipating the next strike. The thing recoils now.

You're tensed and ready, waiting to see what it does next, when a delicate loop of yarn settles around its throat.

“Open the door, Dave!”

You click the lock and lunge aside as the monster storms through where you'd just been standing. Rose is clinging to its back like a demented rider, yarn wrapped tight around its neck and her needles like reins. 

You rush out into the hall behind them, watching as the thing smashes itself against the walls to shake her off. She seems to have a destination in mind as she steers it. You follow helplessly behind.

Somewhere behind you where your soul wandered off, you wonder why no one is poking their heads out into the halls. This thing is making an awful lot of noise. You do your best to keep driving him forward as Rose steers, nicking his ankles and calves.

You are as surprised as the monster seems when you reach a sudden dead end, a floor length window looking out over the city. You make a last slash at its legs as it crashes through.

Rose leaps gracefully off its back, allowing it to fall to the dark streets below.

“Come on,” she pants. “It won't be down for long.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I definitely yoinked some stuff from the beginning of rose's session, sorry -n-


	29. Rose: Run

Rose dashes back to her apartment as you trail close behind. You find yourself standing guard by the door as she moves around the living room like a whirlwind, gathering books and papers.

“We have to leave,” she informs you as her orbit happens to align with your station.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Oh, you didn't know?” She at least holds still enough to make eye contact with you, though her hands stay busy. “That's who we've been looking for.”

“And we're going to what, chase him into the street?”

She laughs. It sounds hollow. “Of course not. But it's not safe here anymore.”

You feel a vise around your heart. “Where will we go?”

“Well,” she shoves another book into a tattered backpack. “I suppose _you_ don't actually have to go anywhere. Unless you've had an encounter that I didn't know about, he hasn't been to your home yet. I, on the other hand, will likely join the Alternians, since they presumably know what they're doing in terms of staying out of sight.”

You're not so sure about your apartment being safe, but you're also definitely not a fan of having to move in with a whole bunch of pointy strangers. And it's not like it'd be that much better to just move yourself somewhere else. Shit's expensive.

So you just kind of stand there by the doorway, trying to ignore the katana you're holding with practiced ease. Rose packs quickly.

“Would you care to escort me?”

You have no idea if she's offering out of fear or kindness. You would do it either way.

\---

It'd be a terribly stupid idea to bring a sword with you in the middle of the night. You leave it in the umbrella stand where you found it instead.

The streets are mostly quiet. Rose's neighborhood is nice enough that most people have places to go, but not so nice that the people with nowhere else to go start to congregate. You feel a little useless vibrating nervously at her side, but you suppose you're still probably better than nothing.

“Hey, why was there a katana in your umbrella stand anyway?”

Her pace falters, just a tiny bit. You've caught her off-guard. “I... I'm not actually sure, Dave. I don't have any recollection of putting it there myself. Perhaps you did? Or will?”

“Now that doesn't make any goddamn sense, why would it have already been there if I haven't put it there yet?”

She just shrugs and keeps walking. Super helpful.

At least it's pretty easy to work your way back to the Alternians' little base of operations. You have no idea if anyone will even be in, but Rose just strides up to the door like she owns the place and knocks politely.

You don't recognize the alien that opens the door, but you probably wouldn't be able to pick the ones you met yesterday out of a lineup anway. The alien doesn't look like they recognize you either though, so this is probably a new one.

“I apologize for the late intrusion, but we have just had a rather alarming encounter and I suspect it is in everyone's best interest if I stay somewhere other than my own abode for the time being. Is there any way that you and your group would be able to facilitate that?”

“One moment,” they respond. Damn, they have a really flat affect. And you would know.

Karkat appears at the door next. He looks genuinely concerned for half a second before he flips back to irritated.

“What do you losers want now?”

“Rose isn't safe,” you blurt suddenly. He stares at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Shouldn't you go to the police or something?”

“Um.” Your mouth snaps shut again.

“I don't believe our police are equipped to handle someone such as our _big friend_.” She raises her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Right.” He sighs and steps aside. You almost follow out of habit, but remember your apartment is supposed to still be okay. So you just wave awkwardly and turn for home, hoping she knows what she's doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that's the right spelling of the type of vise I meant, I even double-checked. although it's such a common substitution it may just look wrong to people at this point. english is dumb.


	30. Dave: Set up camp

You wake up on the sidewalk.

“Not again, not again,” you chant under your breath, clambering to your feet and dashing for home. You're gonna be... late? No, wrong panic channel. Hang on.

Rose is with the aliens. Because some huge monster broke into her apartment. You were going home after walking her there.

How you went from walking home to asleep on the sidewalk, you have no idea.

You reel yourself in to a moderate jog towards your apartment. Something has gone very wrong, but you at least need clothes or something.

Your apartment seems to be undisturbed when you finally reach it, breathing hard but not exactly worn out. You don't bother to turn on the lights. If there is somehow something waiting for you, you'd rather not see.

Perching on top of the dresser makes sense in your dazed mind. You wedge yourself into the corner and cross your arms tight aganinst your chest. You blink awake periodically to stare at the door. While you sleep, you find a similar position to wedge yourself in that ugly purple room. Sometimes you dream that you see Rose drifting past your window. You're not sure if that's in your apartment, or in that tower, but either way you're positive it's not real.

\---

You throw a random assortment of pens, files, and clothes into a bag the next morning and head back to that mysterious building. If your apartment is supposedly safe, you can always come back for more things later.

But Rose needs you. You're sure of it.

The deadfaced one answers the door again. This time you notice the curling horns sticking out of their bushy dark hair. They look like candy corn.

This verbalization is met with the same deadpan stare as everything else. They shrug and step away to let you pass.

Your sigh of relief as you see Karkat talking animatedly at one of the computers, on the other hand, stays internal, for which you are grateful. He looks up at the sound of the door clicking shut and trots over to you.

“What are you doing here, Strider? Worried we ate your girlfriend?”

“Sister,” you correct automatically. You are astounded at the number of times that mistake has been made. Like, even your dumb ass knows Rose is cute and all, but also you are so not interested.

Karkat looks both perplexed and-- something soft? You're not sure-- for just a moment, before throwing his hands up in the air and muttering something about human bullshit. “What do you want, anyway?”

You shrug. You hadn't really thought that far ahead.

“Okay, well Lalonde is in the other room, practicing disguises with Kanaya and Gamzee. Not that it will make any difference, but whatever. What do I know.”

“Is there a spare desk I can use?”

Karkat gestures vaguely towards a corner free of pointy jackasses and huffs off somewhere else. You take that as invitation enough to sling your bag down and start going through what you'd actually managed to grab.

Laptop: good. Charger: MIA.

Not off to an ideal start.

You did manage to grab some of the good pens and your favorite t-shirt though.

A literally mixed bag.

One of the Alternians appears next to you holding a tray of mismatched mugs.

“Hello.” You glance up to see the one that had opened the door for you, and for Rose the night before.

“Have we met? It's so hard to keep track of you all.”

“I don't believe we have. My name is Aradia Megido. Would you care for some milk?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

You turn back to your pile of miscellaney and grab the files next.

Coincidentally, the file on top is the investigation into Aradia Megido's murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silverbear guessed correctly that it was aradia at the end of the last chapter but I had to play it cool even though I was excited I conveyed what I meant to >n<


	31. Aradia: Be cryptic

“Wait, wait, wait. What the fuck? You're alive?”

“Only kind of.”

You try to take a closer look at them. Until their unblinking gaze weirds you out and you look away again.

“Okay but like. You died, right? I have a report here about your murder literally in my hands. Right now. See? There's your name.”

They lean over to stare down at the paper and nod. “That's me.”

“Did you actually die though?”

“It's complicated.”

You sigh and rest your head against the desk.

“Okay, bye.” They turn smoothly and leave, not even clinking any of the mismatched mugs on their tray together.

So. A dead person (alien) is wandering around seemingly under their own power. At least, you haven't heard of any necromancers running around, even in this group of circus freaks. That sure is something.

You choose to ignore the fact that you may also technically be a dead person wandering around under your own power. That gets into weird existential shit you are way too tired to deal with.

A trio of aliens choose that moment to burst dramatically out of the back room. Two of them carry themselves like models; the third looks more like an animated thrift store dumpster along for the ride. You're not sure what they're being so dramatic about, but you haven't been here long. Maybe everyone's this fucking dramatic.

The raggedy one peels off to slouch down at a computer pretty much right away, but the other two do a circuit of the room before drifting over to you.

“Hello, Dave,” the shorter one greets. They look... much more familiar than any of the others, but you still can't quite pin it down. You're pretty sure the only face you can actually put a name to is Karkat. Maybe Aradia since they literally just talked to you and they've got that distinct flat affect.

“Uh, hi?”

“What are you doing here?”

Their voice actually sounds a lot like... “Rose?”

She grins, showing pointy little tooth caps. “We decided to do a little experiment.” Before your stomach can fully drop she continues, “it's just makeup. I think it was fun to see how different I can look, don't you?”

You wrinkle your nose and shrug.

“It's a good proof of concept in case I need to go out but it seems unsafe to go as myself.”

“I'll give you that I guess.”

“You still haven't told me why you're here.”

You self-consciously shuffle the papers in front of you around a little. “I figured you could use a hand is all.”

She smiles softly and sits down in a vacant chair next to you. “I'm safe here. I know these people are strangers, but we have a common goal and a common understanding. And I'm certainly better off here than I would be staying in my compromised apartment.”

“You said my apartment is still safe.”

“That I did, but here you are.”

You're not pouting. You're not. She gently bumps her chair against yours anyway.

“Two heads are better than one, Dave. If you want to come here and help brainstorm what to do, I'm more than happy to have you.”

\---

It turns out there's an extra bed right across from hers. She helps you get your stuff set up as well as you can.

You do still have to go back and get your laptop charger though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -flops- this has turned into some kind of interminable beast, hasn't it. but damn it I will find an end and I will get to it! this will not be left unfinished no matter how meandering it gets!


	32. Doc Scratch: Not yet

Your apartment is the same as you left it that morning when you creep inside. Disorganized and dark. You're groping around beneath your desk for the power strip when your phone beeps cheerfully at you.

You have a message.

But when you slide to open it, it looks blank? That's awfully rude. You toss your phone aside and keep trying to reach the plug end of your charger.

It beeps again, and startles you this time. You jolt hard enough to knock your sunglasses askew (they don't actually fit you very well, it's extremely irritating but it's other kinds of irritating to get ones that slide around any less).

Oh, it's not blank after all. It's just some jackass writing in white text even though the background's like a grey 2 at darkest.

Hello, Dave.  
I've been meaning to speak with you.  
TG: pick a better font clown  
You've had quite an interesting day, haven't you?  
TG: pretty bland actually  
TG: bye loser

There it is. The light from your screen was actually helpful. You yank it from its socket and skitter back out the door. Your phone is still beeping merrily but you don't know this guy, it's really super not worth your energy right now.

\---

When you get back to the... hideout? You guess? The room Rose and you are sharing has become a lot more--

“Eugh.”

It feels like there's lace _everywhere_. You know she kind of liked to decorate like a grandma already, but this is a lot even for her. It has mostly stayed out of what is unofficially your side, but you can't help but notice that a small doily has snuck itself onto the footboard of your bed.

You hear the door swing back open behind you and turn to give her a piece of your mind.

“Rose you know this fuckin--”

Karkat's face snaps from confused to irritated like turning one of those weird “holographic” cards the wrong direction. The pictures themselves were almost always stupid but you love the squeaky plastic texture.

“Oh so only Rose matters now huh? Fine jackwagon, I just came in here cuz I mistook it for the fucking loadgaper anyway.”

And there he goes. You're really not even sure what you did wrong that time. But Karkat is just Like That, you suppose. It's not like you'd know any better, he's not your friend or whatever. You frisbee the doily back across the room to land haphazardly on Rose's pillow. That's better.

\---

It takes another couple hours at least before it occurs to you that you haven't had anything to eat. Nor have you seen anything remotely resembling a kitchen. But these are aliens, after all. Maybe they've got one of them Star Trek “coffee, hot” machines. That'd be rad. You hope they at least have the concept of pizza. They've been here for a while though, haven't they? Long enough to seem worth a police report when one of them gets killed, and that probably takes quite a bit of fake-identification.

It's pretty quiet when you poke your head out to the main room. You don't see Rose at first, which sends a little ping of anxiety from your brain to your gut, but on second glance, she's at one of the desks with one of the pointier aliens. Will you ever be able to tell them apart?

You shuffle over and tap Rose on the head.

“Oh, hello Dave. I didn't see you come in.”

“Food?”

“Oh.” Rose looks down at herself as if only just remembering she still has a corporeal form to take care of. She turns to her companion. “Do you have a kitchen of some sort here? Or is it more of an order-in affair?”

“Oh, I doubt you would really like our food. There's a kitchen in the back, but maybe your human stomachs would fare better with some human food.” Their grin is so pointy. Their horns are so pointy. These aliens are just really fucking pointy. It's wild.

Eventually you settle on curry. You almost offer some to Karkat on instinct, but he's very focused on his computer. Oh well, more for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for missing the previous update, my partner and I were moving to a new apartment and it sucked and was super exhausting. sorry also for not bothering to code for the chat log, I am still exhausted -n-
> 
> I am super obviously not doing nano this year since it takes me so long to even do this much.


	33. Dave: Settle in

You dream of flying, and of green, monstrous hands reaching for you.

\---

When you wake up, Rose is asleep across the room from you. You slip out into the main room to keep from bothering her.

The room is empty except for one Alternian. You've definitely seen this one before, but that's all you can confidently say about them. They turn to stare at you at the click of the door. Do these aliens have unusually sharp ears or something?

“Uh... hi.” You raise your hand like you're going to wave. And then you just leave it in the air like a dumbass.

They continue to stare.

“Uh.” You drop your hand. This one looks kind of like a juggalo. Did they paint their face, or does it just look like that? Vitili-something? “I'm Dave.”

“Radical.” They sound like a top-tier stoner, but there's something a little too sharp about their eyes. “Meetin new people every day. Motherfuckin wild.”

“And uh. You are?”

“Gamzee, bro.” At least their face is pretty distinct.

“Cool, cool.” You nod. You bob your head like a chicken. You stop yourself and return to your desk, although something about that particular alien being the only one in the room feels a little off. You're not entirely sure you should turn your back to the room.

But you do anyway, and soon you're cranking out low-res comics like there's no tomorrow. You're jamming out to a track you and Jade had been working on for days and blissfully unaware of whatever anyone else is doing behind you. People bustle in and out of the adjoining hallways, although this seems to be where most people hang out once they're awake.

One alien with a really pretentious hairdo comes over to say hello, but you deliberately ignore them. They take the hint after a couple seconds and take their aura of slime elsewhere. No one bothers you again until Rose comes out some time later and plops down beside you.

“Where do you think that sword came from?”

“Well hello to you too madam, fine weather we're having isn't it?”

“I didn't put it there. But it was right there when you needed it most. How do you think that happened?”

You wrinkle your nose at her and return to your drawing. “How should I know? You're the one that's all into spooky stuff all of a sudden. Who am I kidding, it's not sudden at all. You've always been goth as hell, I bet your mom dressed you in a little black lacey baby bonnet as soon as they handed you to her in the gothspital.”

She scoffs. “It was the brightest pink she could find and you know that. Don't change the subject.”

“It's not like I brought a secret sword with me to your apartment. I don't even have any left.” That's not entirely true. She doesn't need to know that. “So if it wasn't me, and it wasn't you, it'd just be someone else, right? Does anyone else have access to your apartment?”

She smirks. “Are you sure it wasn't you?”

“I'm pretty sure I'd remember leaving a sword at your house.”

“But what if it hasn't happened yet?”

“What? Wait, is this more time shit? I was really hoping that was a one-time thing.”

“Can you think of a better explanation, Dave?”

“Crazy landlord? I don't know, it's kind of a lot.”

“Perhaps now that we're in a more focused environment--” you scoff at her, but she continues, “-- we can start figuring out how to get your time powers under control. Clearly you didn't trigger them consciously the day you met Karkat.”

There's a flicker in the back of your mind at that. You ignore it. “Where is he, anyway?”

A book is slammed down on your desk from behind you. “Since I am apparently serving as weird alien liason, I've been gathering important cultural texts to give us a common ground to work from. We can start with this one.”

Even looking at the title of the book makes you fucking exhausted. This is going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm kinda losing continuity at this point, sorry y'all. I do not promise to go back and fix it.


	34. Dave: Hit the books

Karkat, true to his word, pulls out book after book to yammer at you over in that same pressured way, like he's a teakettle that's just been left on the hot stove in perpetuity. You absorb almost none of it, as is your wont, although you do learn that these aliens sort of have a concept of gender. Kind of. It's really not used the same as human gender at all, and they don't even seem to consider it a factor in terms of smoochy stuff. Not that you could make heads or tails of that tic tac toe game Karkat tried to pass off as very straightforward. So you're lumping it into the category of “smoochy stuff” and ignoring it until you're forced to learn it. Rose, on the other hand, seems riveted.

Once you're freed from Karkat's whirlwind tirade, you go back to drawing. At this point it's more something to do rather than something that needs doing, but no time spent creating is time wasted, or whatever. You draw an unflattering portrait of the creepy clown one but make sure not to leave it out.

You can hear Rose typing away at something at her own borrowed desk. At first you assume it's just reports or something, but when you look up she has a chat window open.

“I thought you'd be working.” You wheel your chair into hers, making her frown reflexively.

“I am.”

“That's definitely pesterchum.”

“This... person seems to have information I can use.”

You turn to squint at her screen. Her lavender stands out well enough, but-- “ugh, this jackass? I think he's just a troll, Rose.”

“They've mentioned details we haven't released, and isn't connected with anyone we got those details from.”

“Didn't you say there was something like this in one of your way-out fantasy books? Maybe he's just a fan.”

She wrinkles her nose at you. “The particular book I directed you to is old and rare. There's no record of it online just about anywhere. The only person I've ever seen even recognize it is Mr. Egbert. I sincerely doubt this stranger just happened to find a copy of their own, and just happened to find my contact information when I've never even mentioned it to anyone outside the family.”

“But you just said--”

“The extended family, don't be pedantic.”

You stick your tongue out at her. “Either way, I don't like this guy. They tried messaging me yesterday. Besides, what kind of asshole uses white font on a light grey background?”

She shrugs and turns back to her computer. You are clearly dismissed for the time being.

You've only gotten like one derpy face down on the page before a mug is thrust in front of your face.

“Tea?” Aradia's voice is starting to become distinct to you, and you raise an eyebrow at her (right? Karkat just went through this, you don't know yet) before taking the mug.

“Maybe a little warning next time?”

She sits down uninvited and continues to watch you. You're not sure if she's blinking and you don't want to check.

“You've died too,” she whispers suddenly. She doesn't seem surprised by this.

“What the fuck? I mean like, kind of, maybe, but I don't know, I technically didn't?”

“Time shenanigans.” She nods understandingly. “Perhaps I can help with that.”

You glance at Rose, who's deeply engrossed in her conspiracy bullshit. “I don't know, it's not like I understand any of this. I can barely even tell you guys apart.”

She doesn't exactly smile, but there's some kind of shift in the way she's holding herself. “I'm a time player too, Dave. My powers don't work exactly the same as yours, but I can at least teach you some of the general concepts.”

“Can't be any worse than the weird lecture Professor Shouts-A-Lot already gave me, I suppose.”

“Karkat is a very passionate person.”

“Passionate. Sure, that's a word for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at remembering anyone's classpects except the kids, but I have conveniently made dave friendly with the only two trolls in this batch who overlap by coincidence XD thanks, me


End file.
